x"^^^^:. 


•^ 


&v^ 


1  l'^      / 


,^/w- 


Mt^^ 


V 


V\v,,.^j!-;/.-V^ 


'W  V-#fS-t"K'Ni 


^ 


•5^ 


f^^    ^^^ 


P^>- 


%lJH 


"^ 


V/  ti#M-NwfcV 


\^y* 


ii^,.  '^^f^^^^iy 


^ 


I 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


Washington  Irving 


COMMEMORATION   OF   THK 


ONE  HUNDREDTH  ANNIVERSARY  OF  HIS  BIRTH 


Washington  Irving  Association 


TARRYTO\VN-ON-HUDSON 


Tuesday  Evening,  April  3,  li 


ADDRESSES   BY 

JUDGE    NOAH    DAVIS,    CHARLES    DUDLEY   WARNER,    DONALD     G.    MITCHELL, 

WILLIAM   C.  WILKINSON,   JAMES  WOOD,    ETC. 


G.    P.    PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  :     27   &    29   WEST   23D    STREET 

LONDON  :    25    HENRIETTA   STREET,  COVENT   GARDEN 

1884 


COPYRIGHT   BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Press  of 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York 


The  following  account  of  the  commemoration  of  the 
Centennial  Anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Washington 
Irving  has  been  prepared  pursuant  to  a  resolution  of  the 
Washington  Irving,  Association  of  Tarrytown,  adopted 
at  a  meeting  held  on  Saturday,  the  7th  of  April,  follow- 
ing the  celebration. 

M.  H.  B. 

J.  T.  L. 

Tarrytown-on-Hudson 
May,  1884 


iwsooass 


COMMITTEES. 


COMMITTEE  ON  ARRANGEMENTS  : 

MARSHAL    H.    BRIGHT,  JOHN    ROCKWELL, 

LUCIUS   T.    YALE,  DAVID    A.    ROWE, 

GEN.    J.    F.    HALL. 

COMMITTEE  ON  SPEAKERS  : 

JAMES   T.    LAW,  STEPHEN    H.  THAYER, 

MARSHAL    H.    BRIGHT,  L.    T.    YALE. 

COMMITTEE    ON  ENTERTAINMENT  AND 
TRANSPORTA  TION : 

JOHN    ROCKWELL,  T.    J.    TEMPLE, 

JAMES   RICHARDSON, 

COMMITTEE  ON  BADGES: 
D.  A.  ROWE,  M.  D.  RAYMOND. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Portrait    of    Irving,    from    Early    Miniature    by 

Jarvis         .         .         .         .         .         .         .        Frontispiece 

Portrait  of  Irving,  from  Painting  by  Vanderlyn         i 
Etching  of  Sunnyside,  by  Gifford      ....       4 

Portrait  of  Irving,  from  Drawing  by  Martin  .       6 

Portrait  of  Irving,  from  Bust  by  Hughes       .         .12 
Portrait  of  Matilda  Hoffman  .         .  .         .18 

Christ  Church,  Tarrytown 22 

Christ  Church,  Tarrytown,  Interior  View  26 

Christ  Church,  Tarrytown,  Interior  View,  Showing 

Irving  Memorial  Tablet        .         .  30 

Old  Mill,  Sleepy  Hollow 40 

Old  Wolfert's  Roost,  Prior  to  Alteration     .         .     48 


/■/ 


fv" 


Frommf.  oHpnal'- drawing  Jjy  Vanderlyn,  Fans.  2805. 


J^*^**^      '^^^ 


(180SJ 


/^^!^^Cc^*yf  ^^ 


X'W'J-^, 


INTRODUCTORY. 


In  this  hurrying  age  anniversaries,  whether  of  the  birth 
of  great  men  or  of  great  events,  are  easily  lost  sight  of. 
Indeed,  the  number  of  memorable  anniversaries  is  small 
at  best.  Back  in  the  history  of  the  world  stretches  an 
endless  procession  of  men  who  were  great  in  some  one  at 
least  of  all  the  possible  elements  of  greatness,  whose  very 
names  even  form  a  subject  for  dispute,  while  the  years  of 
their  birth  are  unknown,  or  if  known  seldom  or  never 
recalled.  So  there  are  records  of  great  deeds  which  have 
changed  the  maps  of  the  world,  yet  which  are  almost 
lost  in  the  morning  mist  or  dimly  seen  in  faint  perspec- 
tive, while  nearly  all  are  imbedded  in  the  intensity  and 
dominance  of  the  present.  Interest  in  men  and  events 
of  the  past,  it  scarcely  need  be  said,  is  not  so  much  pro- 
portioned to  their  importance  at  the  particular  time  of 
their  existence,  as  to  the  relation  which  they  sustain  to  the 
living  issues  and  nearer  generation  of  to-day.  And  so  it 
might  be  expected  that  while  the  two  hundredth  anniver- 
sary of  the  death  of  quaint  Sir  Thomas  Browne  might 
pass  unnoticed,  at  least  the  one  hundredth  birthday  of  our 
own  Washington  Irving,  of  whom  it  may  historically  be 
more  truly  said  than  Halleck  said  of  Cooper,  that 

His  name  is  with  his  country's  woven  ; 
First  in  her  fields,  her  pioneer  of  mind  ; — 
I 


it  might  naturally  be  expected  that  the  birthday  of 
Washington  Irving  would  not  be  forgotten  either  by  those 
his  fellow-laborers  in  the  field  of  literature  or  by  his 
sometime  fellow-countrymen — some  his  immediate  per- 
sonal friends,  inhabitants  of  Tarrytown,  where  he  lived, 
where  he  worshipped,  and  upon  whose  every  hill,  valley, 
and  bosky  hollow  he  had  cast  like  a  spell  the  witchery  of 
his  romance.  Yet  so  it  was,  that  the  approaching  anni- 
versary seems  to  have  wholly  escaped  attention  until  a 
newspaper  slip  announcing  the  near  centenary  of  Irving's 
birth  arrested  the  attention  of  three  gentlemen  living  in 
Tarrytown.  These  gentlemen  meeting  one  day — it  was 
about  the  middle  of  March — the  question  naturally  arose, 
"  Why  not  do  something  to  commemorate  the  event  ?  " 
Sure  enough,  why  not  ?  The  question  was  answered  in 
part  by  an  agreement  to  invite  a  few  friends  to  meet  as 
soon  as  practicable  for  consultation  over  the  matter. 
Later,  Mr.  T.  J.  Temple  invited  the  gentlemen  interested 
to  meet  at  his  house — an  invitation  which  was  promptly 
accepted,  and  subsequently  made  to  include  not  only 
that  but  all  subsequent  meetings. 


On  Monday,  the  19th  of  March,  the  first  meeting  was 
held.  There  were  present  on  that  occasion  the  following 
gentlemen,  viz. :  M.  H.  Bright,  Gen.  James  F.  Hall,  James 
T.  Law,  David  A.  Rowe,  Rev.  J.  Selden  Spencer,  T.  J. 
Temple,  and  L.  T.  Yale.  The  gentlemen  then  and  there 
assembled  organized  themselves  into  an  Association  to 
be  known  as  "The  Washington  Irving  Association," 
whose  object  was  declared   to  be  that  of  "  appropriately 


commemorating  the  life  and  services  to  literature  of 
Washington  Irving  by  appropriately  celebrating  the 
centennial  anniversary  of  his  birth  in  the  town  where  he 
lived  and  died."  Additions  were  made  by  election,  con- 
stituting the  General  Committee  of  the  Association  as 

follows  : 

The  General  Committee. 


Marshal  H.  Bright. 
Washington  Choate. 
Harry  A.  Grant,  Jr. 
James  F.  Hall. 
N.  C.  Husted. 

D.  W.  JUDD. 

James  T,  Law. 
M.  D.  Raymond. 


John  Rockwell. 
James  Richardson. 
David  A.  Rowe. 
J.  Selden  Spencer. 
Thos.  J.  Temple, 
Stephen  H.  Thayer. 
William  C.  Wilkinson. 
Lucius  T.  Yale. 


The  following  officers  were  then  elected  : 

Rev.  J.  Selden  Spencer,  President. 
T.  J.  Temple,   ist  Vice-President. 
D,  W.  JUDD,  2d  Vice-President. 
L.  T,  Yale,   Secretary. 
D.  A.  Rowe,    Treasurer. 

It  was  then  formally  resolved,  "  that  this  Association 
celebrate  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth  of 
Washington  Irving,  in  Tarrytown,  on  Tuesday  evening 
April  3,  1883."  A  committee  on  speakers  was  then  ap- 
pointed, viz. :  Messrs.  Jas.  T.  Law,  S.  H.  Thayer,  M.  H. 
Bright,  L.  T.  Yale. 

The  next  meeting  of  the  General  Committee  was 
held  at  Mr.  Temple's  residence,  on  Thursday  evening, 
March  22d.  All  the  Committee  were  present.  The  offer 
of  the  Trustees  of  the  Second  Reformed  Church,  tender- 
ing the  use  of  that  building,  was    received  and  accepted 


4 

with  thanks.  It  was  ascertained  that  more  extended 
facilities  could  not  be  had  ; — whatever  celebration  was  had 
must  take  place  in  a  church,  and  arrangements  must  be 
perfected  during  the  ensuing  ten  days.  The  necessary 
additional  committees  were  then  appointed  [see  p.  v.]. 

It  was  resolved,  that  membership  in  the  Association  be 
placed  at  one  dollar,  and  that  all  citizens  of  Westchester 
County  in  sympathy  with  the  objects  of  the  Association 
be  invited  to  join.  It  was  further  resolved,  "  that  Mr. 
Donald  G.  Mitchell  be  invited  to  deliver  an  address  ap- 
propriate to  the  occasion."  A  resolution  was  also 
adopted,  inviting  the  Westchester  County  Historical 
Society  to  be  present  on  the  occasion  ;  and  a  like  invita- 
tion was  extended  to  the  old  friends  and  acquaintances  of 
Mr.  Irving,  in  Tarrytown.  The  presence  of  the  Misses 
Irving  was  also  especially  invited.  Mr.  S.  H.  Thayer 
was  invited  to  write  a  poem  for  the  occasion,  which, 
though  on  brief  notice,  he  consented  to  do. 

The  Committee  met  again  on  Friday,  March  30th.  It 
was  voted  to  request  of  the  Misses  Irving,  the  favor  of  hav- 
ing Sunnyside  open  to  the  public  on  the  3d  day  of  April. 
[The  request  was  promptly  acceded  to  later  by  the  ladies, 
and  Sunnyside  was  open  for  several  days,  very  many 
from  all  parts  of  the  country  availing  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  to  visit  "  Woolfort's  Roost,"  which  remained 
the  same  as  it  was  on  the  day  of  Mr.  Irving's  death.] 
The  various  Committees  then  made  their  reports,  and 
the  list  of  speakers  being  submitted,  the  following  pro- 
gramme was  adopted : 


5 
THE  WASHINGTON  IRVING  CENTENARY. 


AT    TARRYTOWN-ON-HUDSON. 


Tuesday  Evening,  April  3,  1883, 

AT     THE 

SECOND   REFORMED  CHURCH. 


The  Hon.  NOAH  DAVIS  will  Preside. 


PROGRAMME. 

PRELUDE        .        ("  Rip  Van  Winkle ")  .  Miss  Hawes. 

SALUTATORY  ADDRESS  ....     James  Wood. 

READING  OF  LETTERS,  ETC     .     Rev.  Washington  Choate. 


PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES 

ADDRESS 

ADDRESS 

SONG            .              "  The  Lost  Chord  " 
ADDRESS 


Rev.  J.  Selden  Spencer. 

Donald  G.  Mitchell. 

Chas.  Dudley  Warner. 

Miss  Sears. 

W.  C.  Wilkinson,  D.D. 


BENEDICTION  .         .         .       Prof.  T.  S.  Doolittle,  D.D. 

commencing  at  eight  o'clock. 


Under  the  Auspices  of  the  Washington  Irving  Association 


Rev.  J.  Selden  Spencer,  President, 

Gen.  Jas.  F.  Hall, 

T.  J.  Temple,  ist  Vice-President, 

N.  C.  Husted, 

D.  W.  JuDD,  2d  Vice-President, 

James  T.  Law, 

L.  T.  Yale,  Secretary, 

John  Rockwell, 

General 

D.  A.  Rowe,  Treasurer, 

James  Richardsoh, 

Committee 

Marshal  H.  Bright, 

M.  D.  Raymond, 

Washington  Choate,                        ( 

Stephen  H.  Thayer, 

H.A.Grant,  Jr., 

W.  C.  Wilkinson.         J 

THE  CELEBRATION. 


The  services  were  held  as  appointed  in  the  Second  Re- 
formed Church,  Rev.  J.  A.  Todd,  D.D.,  pastor,  and  the 
programme  was  carried  out  in  its  entirety.  From  New 
York,  Brooklyn,  and  other  adjacent  points,  many  came  to 
swell  the  audience  assembled  to  do  honor  to  the  memory 
of  Washington  Irving  in  the  beautiful  little  town  which 
had  so  long  been  his  home,  and  where  he  died.  The 
church  presented  a  beautiful  appearance,  and  especially 
so  the  platform  and  its  surroundings.  The  pulpit  was 
removed,  and  banks  of  exquisite  flowers,  ferns,  and  palms 
formed  a  setting  of  rare  beauty,  in  the  centre  of  which  was 
the  original  portrait  of  Irving,  executed  by  Jarvis  when 
the  author  was  but  twenty-four  years  of  age.  The  legend 
1783-1883  in  large  gilt  figures  stood  against  the  bank 
of  greenery.  The  building  was  literally  packed — every 
square  inch  being  occupied.  Among  those  present  were 
Judges  Larremore,  Van  Vorst,  and  Arnoux;  President 
Merrill  Edward  Gates,  of  Rutgers  College ;  the  Misses 
Irving;  Rev.  Drs.  David  Cole  and  James  M.Ludlow; 
Generals  Francis  Darr  and  Alexander  Shaler ;  Geo. 
Haven  Putnam,  Esq.;  Messrs.  J.  N,  Hallock,  Hamilton 
W.  Mabie,  and  Eliot  McCormick,  of  the  New  York 
religious  press;  .Professors  E.  T.  Lounsbury ;  T.  S. 
Doolittle,    D.D.,    and    Norman   Fox  ;    Wm.    S.    Wilson, 

6 


^^^^^^^•^Lt^^?^ 


c^'^-^^-t-^^yd  cy^  /xJ-C-cy     '  /S     -         /Vj    / 


Jonathan  Odell,  and  Jacob  Odell,  Esqs. :  and  other  old 
friends  of  Mr.  Irving. 

Precisely  as  the  clock  was  striking  eight  the  speakers, 
headed  by  the  President  of  the  evening,  Chief-Justice 
Noah  Davis,  entered,  taking  their  seats  on  the  platform, 
followed  by  the  General  Committee.  Miss  Hawes  at 
once  commenced  playing  the  appropriate  selection  of  the 
overture  from  "Rip  Van  Winkle"  on  the  organ,  and  the 
exercises  were  fairly  under  way.  Upon  the  conclusion 
of  the  overture  Chief-Justice  Davis  rose  and  addressed 
the  stilled  audience  as  follows  : 


CHIEF-JUSTICE  NOAH  DAVIS'S  ADDRESS. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen : — We  are  met  to  commemorate 
the  one  hundredth  birthday  of  Washington  Irving.  No- 
where in  all  America — and  that  is  saying  in  all  the  world 
— could  that  event  be  more  fitly  celebrated  than  here, 
on  this  right  bank  of  the  majestic  river,  which  he  loved 
to  call  the  "lordly  Hudson,"  and  in  this  most  beautiful 
region  of  the  Hudson's  incomparable  beauties.  Here,  on 
these  hills  and  in  these  valleys,  Irving  loved,  in  youth,  to 
wander  and  repose.  Here  in  manhood  he  chose  and 
built  the  home  where  he  lived  for  many  years,  and  in 
which  he  did  much  of  his  life's  best  work ;  and  here 
he  died,  and  in  his  self-chosen  spot  in  yonder  beautiful 
cemetery  rests  all  of  him  that  was  mortal. 

To  him  this  region  was  classic  ground  in  the  legendary 
tales  and  dreamy  lore  of  its  early  settlers  ;  and  in  many 
memories  of  the  war  of  the  Revolution  which  had  just 


8 

ended  as  his  life  began, — and  notably  in  that  singular 
event  which  you  recall  in  bronze  and  marble,  when  the 
liberties  of  America  hung  trembling  on  the  virtues  of 
three  young  yeomen  of  Westchester.  Classic,  also,  it  was 
in  the  broad  sweep  of  the  "  Tappan  Zee,"  in  the  grand 
outlook  from  these  monumental  hills,  in  the  sweet  com- 
posure of  these  smiling  valleys,  and  in  the  music  of  their 
leaping  rivulets.  Here  Nature  and  Irving  became  lovers 
in  his  only  wedded  faith,  and  she  made  him  her  inter- 
preter to  cast  over  river  and  hill,  valley  and  stream 
the  glamour  of  his  genius.    [Applause.] 

To  this  Association  comes  the  grateful  duty,  to  make 
this  stretch  of  riverside  comprising  what  is  now  known  as 
Tarrytown  and  Irvington,  something  akin  to  what  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon is  to  the  memory  of  Shakespeare, — a 
Mecca,  in  which  the  lovers  and  devotees  of  letters  bring 
tribute  to  the  shrine  of  genius.  To  the  American  who 
visits  Stratford-upon-Avon,  next  in  interest  after  the 
house  and  room  in  which  Shakespeare  was  born,  and  the 
church  in  which  he  was  buried,  and  the  few  scenes  known 
to  be  interwoven  with  his  life,  is  the  little  parlor  of  the 
"  Red  Horse  Inn  "  called  Washington  Irving's  room, — full 
of  mementos  of  him, — in  which  he  lived  for  many  weeks 
and  where  he  wrote  the  sketch  which  made  Americans 
more  familiar  with  Shakespeare's  birthplace  than  English- 
men themselves,  and  Englishmen  more  familiar  than  ever 
before.     [Applause.] 

So  I  trust  this  Association  will  to-night  give  to  the 
domain  of  literature,  similar  portrayals  of  the  life-place, 
death-place,  and  burial-place  of  Washington  Irving,  to 


whom  belongs  the  honor  of  America's  first-born  con- 
queror of  an  undisputed  seat  in  the  world's  great  Repub- 
lic of  Letters. 

When  the  hearty  and  prolonged  applause  following  the 
address  had  subsided,  Judge  Davis  presented  Mr,  James 
Wood,  President  of  the  Westchester  County  Historical 
Society.     Mr.  Wood  spoke  as  follows  : 

MR.  JAMES  WOOD'S  SALUTATORY  ADDRESS. 

Mr.  Chairman,  Ladies  and  Gentleme7i : — We  all  recog- 
nize that  the  fame  of  Irving  belongs  to  mankind.  Even 
America  cannot  claim  it  as  exclusively  her  own,  much 
less  the  city  of  New  York  where  he  was  born,  and  this 
county  of  Westchester  where  he  was  pleased  to  make  his 
home  and  where  he  died  ;  and  yet  Westchester  has  a 
claim  peculiarly  her  own,  for,  while  we  are  joint-heirs  with 
others  in  the  heritage  of  his  fame,  Irving  was  here  hon- 
ored during  his  life  for  other  qualities  besides  those  of 
the  gifted  author,  as  he  was  here  also  known  as  the  good 
citizen,  the  genial  neighbor,  and  the  Christian  gentleman. 
Hence,  it  has  seemed  most  fitting  that  the  celebration  of 
the  centenary  of  his  birth  should  take  place  here,  close  by 
his  loved  Sunnyside,  under  the  care  of  those  who  are 
organized  to  preserve  associations  with  his  memory. 

It  was  a  happy  coincidence  that  the  year  in  which 
Great  Britain  acknowledged  America's  political  indepen- 
dence witnessed  the  birth  of  him  who  was  the  first  to 
cause  the  mother-country  to  acknowledge  her  literary 
independence  also.     The  years  that  followed  seemed  illy 


10 

fitted  for  the  cultured  training  of  youth.  The  trying 
times  of  the  Revolution  had  almost  destroyed  the  facil- 
ities for  education  that  had  made  such  good  progress  in 
the  colonial  period,  and  the  nine  colleges  founded  before 
the  war  then  barely  maintained  their  existence,  and  some 
of  them  not  continuously.  The  wealthiest  and  some  of 
the  most  refined  families  of  colonial  times  had  been  re- 
duced to  poverty  or  were  expatriated  because  of  their 
political  sentiments.  All  the  means  for  culture  were  far 
below  the  colonial  facilities.  But  America  has  shown  as 
little  regard  for  established  rules  in  intellectual  progress 
as  in  her  material  development.  Irving,  closing  an  ordi- 
nary school  education  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  soon  sur- 
prised and  delighted  the  literary  world  with  his  style  of 
classic  elegance,  and,  in  a  condition  of  society  that 
favored  the  production  of  strength  in  character  rather 
than  refinement,  he  displayed  the  best  of  those  gentle 
qualities  claimed  as  only  possible  with  a  people  long  ac- 
customed to  the  refining  influences  of  an  aristocracy. 
Buffon  had  advanced  the  theory,  and  the  Abb<S  Raynal 
had  sought  to  confirm  it,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
America  to  produce  other  than  inferior  races  of  men  ; 
and  Lord  Jeffrey,  in  noticing  the  "  Sketch-Book  "  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  thought  it  "  a  remarkable  thing  "  that 
its  "  great  purity  and  beauty  of  diction  on  the  model 
of  the  most  elegant  and  polished  writers,"  should  have 
been  the  work  of  an  American.  In  old  Amsterdam  the 
diamond-cutters  have  long  manipulated  precious  stones, 
making  their  surfaces  that  were  rough  and  unattractive 
shine  with  dazzling  brilliancy.      In  New  Amsterdam   a 


n 

gem,  uncut  by  others'  art,  shone  in  its  inherent  quaHty 
with  a  mellow  lustre  that  has  charmed  the  world.  This 
lustre  is  unfading.  So  long  as  the  heart  of  mankind  re- 
sponds when  its  chords  are  touched  by  the  favored  few 
who  find  access  to  its  sacred  presence,  so  long  will  men, 
from  childhood  to  old  age,  smile  and  weep  at  Irving's 
gentle  touches  of  humor  and  of  pathos. 

We  may  justly  be  proud  that  our  country  furnished  a 
Motley  for  The  Netherlands,  and  a  Prescott  for  Spain, 
and  that  Irving  gave  to  the  world  that  "  Life  of  Columbus  " 
which  has  been  pronounced  by  high  English  authority 
"  a  model  of  tasteful  elegance,  felicitous  in  every  de- 
tail, and  adequate  in  every  respect  "  ;  and  that  his  hands 
decked  the  walls  of  the  Alhambra  with  unfading  gar- 
lands. We  can  congratulate  ourselves  that  the  task  of 
recording  the  life  of  Washington  fell  to  his  appreciative 
pen ;  and  it  is  a  part  of  our  local  good  fortune  that  his 
touch  has  made  classic  ground  of  familiar  localities 
about  us,  as  his  closely  attached  friend,  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  hallowed  so  many  places  by  his  genius. 

We  desire  at  all  times  to  treasure  this  name,  honored 
and  loved  around  the  wide  world  ;  and,  on  this  centennial 
anniversary  of  his  birth,  we  bid  you,  gentlemen,  who 
have  come  to  take  part  in  this  celebration,  and  all  who 
are  here  present,  welcome  to  the  home  of  Irving.  Though 
we  cannot  hope  to  grasp  the  inspiration  of  the  genius 
of  the  author,  we  may  at  least  endeavor  to  emulate  the 
character  of  the  man.     [Applause.] 

At  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Wood's  address  the  Rev. 
Washington  Choate,  of  Irvington,  read  the  following: 


12 

RESPONSES  BY  LETTER. 


From  Governor  CLEVELAND. 

Executive  Chamber,  Albany, 
March  21,  1883. 

Marshal  H.  Bright,  Esq.,  Chairman,  etc, : 

Dear  Sir — I  have  to-day  received  your  invitation  to  attend 
the  celebration  of  the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Washington 
Irving.  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  deny  myself  that  pleasure 
on  account  of  official  duties.  If  a  pure  life  and  the  placid 
calm  of  its  later  time  are  of  benefit  to  the  world,  and  if  he  who 
writes  to  instruct  and  elevate,  while  he  diverts,  is  entitled  to 
grateful  remembrance,  we  do  well  to  celebrate  the  birth  of  our 
beloved  countryman. 

I  hope  the  observance  of  this  anniversary  will  long  continue 
to  remind  all  who  read  of  one  who,  though  dead,  should  al- 
ways live  in  their  love  and  admiration. 
Yours  very  truly, 

Grover  Cleveland. 


From  JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 

Amesbury,  Third  Month,  21,  1883. 
y antes  T.  Law,  Esq.,  Tarrytowti,  N.  V.  : 

Dear  Friend — I  have  received  thy  invitation  in  behalf  of 
the  committee  in  charge  of  the  celebration  of  the  looth  anni- 
versary of  the  birthday  of  Washington  Irving.  I  greatly  regret 
that  age  and  delicate  health  must  prevent  me  from  availing 
myself  of  it. 

So  general  are  the  admiration  and  love  of  all  English-speak- 
ing people  for  the  genial  author  of  the  "Sketch-Book,"  that  it 
may  be  regarded  superfluous  for  me  to  own  my  great  indebted- 


^^  ^<r 


From  Ihe  Bust  'by  BiU  Huglies  'dboid  IS-B" 


13 

ness  to  him  as  a  writer  of  exceeding  purity  and  beauty  of  style 
and  thought,  the  pioneer  of  American  literature. 

It  has  been  long  a  matter  of  regret  that  while  he  was  living 
I  did  not  feel  myself  warranted  in  seeking  the  acquaintance  of 
one  upon  whom  I  could  have  no  other  claim  than  that  of 
a  sincere  admirer.  Our  literature  has  assumed  large  propor- 
tions since  he  laid  aside  his  pen,  but  his  writings  have  lost  none 
of  their  attractions  ;  and  the  veil  of  romance  which  he  has 
thrown  over  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson  still  lingers  there, 
and  Crow  Nest  and  Dunderberg  will  always  loom  through  it. 

I  thank  the  committee  for  remembering  me  on  the  occasion 
of  his  anniversary,  and  am  very  truly  thy  friend, 

John  G.  Whittier. 


From  GEORGE  WM.  CURTIS. 

West  New  Brighton,  Staten  Island, 
March  31,  1883. 

Dear  Sir — I  am  very  sorry  that  I  am  unable  to  accept  the 
invitation  to  take  part  in  the  centenary  commemoration  of  Irv- 
ing, on  Tuesday  evening,  at  Tarrytown.  Nowhere  could  the 
anniversary  of  his  birth  be  more  fitly  celebrated  than  in  the 
town  which  he  chose  for  his  home,  and  in  which  he  died  and 
lies  buried,  on  the  banks  of  the  noble  river  over  which  his 
genius  has  thrown  a  romantic  and  enduring  charm. 

If  it  were  possible  for  me  to  come,  I  should  venture  to  sug- 
gest that  no  place  and  no  time  could  be  more  appropriate  than 
those  of  your  meeting,  for  beginning  an  active  movement  to 
secure  a  statue  of  Washington  Irving  in  Central  Park,  The 
Park  is  happily  becoming  a  Sylvan  Walhalla  or  Pantheon  ;  a 
gallery  of  memorials  of  famous  men,  and  especially  of  great 
authors  of  every  land,  as  befits  a  cosmopolitan  city.  But  what 
American  could  show  a  njiore  commanding  title  to  such  an 
honor  than  Irving  ?     Whose  statue  would  stand  with  more  pro- 


14 

priety  among  the  noble  figures  that  recall  the  glories  of  the  lit- 
erature of  Britain,  Germany,  and  Italy,  than  that  of  the  man 
who  wrote  the  first  American  book  that  the  whole  world  read, 
and  still  reads  with  delight,  and  from  which  dates  our  distinc- 
tive literature  ? 

Such  a  memorial  might  well  be  erected  in  any  part  of  the 
country,  for  Irving  belongs  to  that  group  of  authors  who  are 
not  only  admired  for  the  charm  of  their  works,  but  who  are 
themselves  beloved  for  the  purity  and  sweetness  of  their  lives. 
Yet  while  the  whole  country  justly  claims  him,  he  was  in  a  cer- 
tain distinctive  sense  a  New  Yorker.  He  made  the  city  and 
its  neighborhood,  and  the  Hudson  River,  peculiarly  his  own. 
His  genius  is  especially  connected  with  the  region  which  the 
Park  commands,  and  the  name  of  Knickerbocker,  which  he 
has  associated  with  New  Amsterdam  forever,  is  intimately  and 
familiarly  blended  with  the  life  and  activities  of  New  York.  In 
New  York,  therefore,  and  in  Central  Park,  his  statue  should 
be  erected,  not  for  his  own  fame,  which  will  endure  as  long  as 
the  thunder  rolls  among  the  Catskill  Mountains,  and  the  mid- 
night gusts  sweep  through  Sleepy  Hollow,  but  to  remove  from 
his  native  city  the  reproach  of  neglecting  to  include  among 
those  whom  she  honors  in  her  great  resort,  her  most  illustrious 
son,  the  benign  patriarch  of  American  literature. 
Very  truly  yours, 

George  William  Curtis. 

D.  A.  Ro7ve,  Esq. 


From  JOHN   JAY. 

The  Rev.  j/^.  Selden  Spencer^  President  of  the  Irving  Association  : 
Reverend  and  Dear  Sir — I  would  gladly  have  accepted 

the  request  of  your  Association,  kindly  brought  to  me  by  Mr. 

Rowe,  to  assist  in  celebrating  the  centennial  of  Irving's  birth, 

had  it  not  come  at  a  moment  of  sudden  domestic  sorrow. 
It  is  fitting  that  our  old  Westchester  to  which  Irving  by  his 


15 

stories  and  his  life  has  added  the  legendary  charm  which 
blends  so  happily  with  its  historic  memories,  should  pay  to  the 
author  and  to  the  man  this  loving  tribute  of  remembrance  ;  and 
it  is  proper  that  this  tribute  should  be  paid  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson,  of  which  he  wrote  :  "The  Hudson  is  in  a  manner 
my  first  and  last  love,  and,  after  all  my  wanderings  and  seeming 
infidelities,  I  return  to  it  with  a  heartfelt  preference  over  all 
the  rivers  of  the  world." 

Some  twenty-four  years  have  passed  since  Irving  was  taken 
from  us,  and  of  the  distinguished  procession  which  saw  him 
laid  to  rest,  the  most  have  followed  him  to  the  Spirit  Land. 
Among  those  who  on  the  third  of  April  are  to  celebrate  his 
birth  there  will  be  none  of  the  friends  of  his  youth,  and  but 
few  who  knew  him  in  the  serene  evening  of  his  days  and  amid 
the  genial  atmosphere  of  his  pleasant  home  ;  few  who  can 
recall  the  cordial  greeting,  the  grace  of  manner,  the  cheery 
tone,  the  playful  humor,  the  uniform  kindliness  of  his  nature, 
and  the  winning  sunlight  of  his  smile. 

But  all  readers  of  Irving  may  learn  his  manly  and  tender 
traits  from  the  unconscious  personality  which  marks  his  writ- 
ings, from  the  earlier  creations  of  his  sportive  fancy,  to  his  last 
and  greatest  work,  the  "  Life  of  Washington." 

It  is  pleasant  to  remember  that  if  some  of  the  names  which 
shone  in  the  literary  firmanent,  when  Irving's  star  was  rising 
modestly  on  the  Western  horizon,  have  paled  amid  the  bright- 
ening light  of  later  luminaries,  the  fame  of  Washington  Irving, 
with  a  true,  fixed,  and  resting  quality,  has  attained  the  magni- 
tude and  brilliancy  of  a  stately  planet. 

It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  when  the  people  of  Westchester 
and  New  York,  with  kinsmen,  friends,  and  neighbors,  shall 
meet  at  Tarrytown,  near  Sunnyside  and  Sleepy  Hollow,  to  pay 
this  centennial  tribute  to  his  virtues  and  his  fame,  their  service 
of  love  will  represent  in  a  measure  a  world-wide  circle,  and 
express  the  cultured  sympathies  of  other  lands. 

I  am,  dear  sir,  faithfully  yours, 

John  Jay. 

New  York,  March  31,  1883. 


i6 

From  President  NOAH  PORTER. 

New  Haven,  Conn.,  March  24,  1883. 
Mr.  Marshal  H.  Bright^  Chairman^  etc.  : 

My  Dear  Sir — I  regret  that  it  will  not  be  possible  for  me 
to  accept  the  courteous  invitation  of  your  Committee  to  be 
present  at  the  Centennial  Anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Wash- 
ington Irving  on  the  3d  of  April. 

I  should  be  pleased  to  bring  with  me  a  well-worn  and  much- 
read  copy  of  the  first  ten  numbers  of  Salmagiaidi,  bound  in  a 
volume,  which  somehow  happens  to  find  itself  among  the  odds 
and  ends  of  my  library.  The  numbers  run  from  the  second  to 
the  seventh  edition,  and  the  volume  would  suggest  very  many 
topics,  upon  all  of  which  you  will  doubtless  hear  instructive  and 
eloquent  speakers. 

We  cannot  estimate  too  highly  the  many  and  varied  services 
which   Washington   Irving   rendered  to  his  generation  in  his 
long  and  useful  life  of  varied  and  efficient  activity. 
Very  respectfully, 

N.  Porter. 


Brief  expressions  of  regret  at  inability  to  be  present 
were  also  received  from  Rev.  Jno.  A.  Todd  and  Rev. 
Jno.  K.  Allen  of  Tarrytown  [these  gentlemen  were  pre- 
vented by  previous  engagements,  calling  them  out  of 
town]  ;  Rev.  Jno.  B.  Thompson,  D.D.,  formerly  of  Tarry- 
town  ;  Rev.  Drs.  Jno.  M.  Buckley,  Howard  Crosby,  John 
Hall,  Wm.  Ormiston,  Samuel  I.  Prime  and  E.  D.  G. 
Prime  of  The  Observer;  H.  C.  Potter,  Wm.  M.  Taylor, 
Wm.  H.  Ward  of  The  Independent ;  Jno.  H.  Dey,  Esq., 
of  The  Evatigelist ;  Parke  Godwin,  President  Barnard  of 
Columbia  College,  President  Eliot  of  Harvard,  Thos. 
Bailey  Aldrich,  Jno.  Treat  Irving — Mr.  Irving  being  pre- 


17 

vented  by  illness  from  attending ;  E.  C.  Stedman,  and 
others.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  reading  of  the  letters, 
the  Rev.  Washington  Choate  read  the  following  poem, 
by  Mr.  Stephen  H.  Thayer,  of  Tarrytovvn,  which  was 
received  with  many  manifestations  of  approval : 

MR.  THAYER'S  POEM. 

WASHINGTON    IRVING.       1783-1883. 

Distant  we  stand,  as  if  from  some  far  main 
We  viewed  a  wide  expanse  of  wave  and  strand 
Till,  midway  in  the  Eastern  glimpse  of  land 
Our  vision  greets  a  mountain  on  the  plain. 

Time,  distance,  cannot  veil  our  wistful  eyes  ; 
The  lofty  peak  stands  ever  as  before. 
And  we,  while  gazing  from  the  level  shore, 
See  now  its  form  in  stainless  lustre  rise. 

Clear  sky  and  golden  beauty  bathe  the  height. 
Serene  it  lifts  its  airy  crest  to  fame ; 
Above  the  need  or  care  of  praise  or  blame, — 
A  fadeless  summit  clothed  in  robes  of  light : 

So  stands  our  Irving  of  a  hundred  years. 
Loved  master  in  the  field  of  lettered  lore, 
Whose  brow  first  bore  the  crown  and  nobly  wore 
Its  circling  nimbus  far  above  his  peers. 

He  missed  the  unsheathed  sword,  the  battle-plain 
That  won  for  liberty  her  fair  increase. 
But  kept  his  birthday  in  the  year  of  peace. 
The  nation's  jubilee  from  strife  and  pain. 


I8 

He  taught  our  embryo  empire  in  its  youth 
That  Art  was  loyal  to  its  natal  cause, 
And  wrote  of  gentler  manners,  kindlier  laws, 
Of  beauty  bred  in  common  ways  of  truth. 

From  the  wild  haunts  of  brooding  solitude, 
From  old  traditions  steeped  in  romance  dear 
He  brought  his  marvels  to  the  duller  ear, 
And  to  the  heart  a  finer  fancy  wooed. 

He  had  the  poet's  music  and  his  dream. 

His  wanton  imagery  without  his  song. 

Yet  deftly  wrought,  in  rhythms  pure  and  strong, 

Idyllic-like  the  method  of  his  theme. 

To  him  was  given  the  charmed  magician's  hand. 
To  weave  withal  a  mystic  tale  of  love. 
Or  some  sweet  spell,  the  spirit-life  to  move. 
And  win  it  captive  by  his  potent  wand. 

An  affluent  soul  was  his  that  made  man  kin, 
A  genial  humor  graced  with  beauteous  speech, 
Evoking  tears  and  laughter,  blessed  to  teach 
A  purer  accent  to  the  voice  within. 

What  fair  creation  has  his  genius  wrought  ! 
What  witcheries — in  peopling  yon  lone  vale — 
He  wove  into  the  texture  of  a  tale 
And  fashioned  in  the  fancy  of  his  thought ! 

The  tides  that  bore  him  once  to  Eastern  lands, 
Come  back  to-day,  resounding  as  they  came 
Long  years  ago,  with  echoes  of  his  name, 
And  sweep  their  messages  across  our  sands, 


-m. 


^ 


KflATTDLOA  ra(S)[riFKflAKl< 


t9 

Till  we,  within  the  shadow  of  his  home, 
Bless  the  full  radiance  of  his  renown. 
That  breaks  benign  beyond  the  sea  and  town, 
Unvexed  by  other  lights  that  go  and  come : 

And  through  the  centuries  we  see  afar 

His  glory — nothing  dimmed  from  age  to  age — 

In  panegyrics  light  the  living  page. 

To  pledge  for  him  the  orbit  of  a  star ! 

The  President  of  the  evening  then  introduced  the  Rev. 
James  Selden  Spencer,  Rector  of  Christ  Church,  Tarry- 
town,  of  which  Irving  was  for  many  years  a  communicant 
and  warden.  Mr.  Spencer's  topic  was  "  Personal  Remi- 
niscences of  Irving,"  whose  pastor  and  intimate  friend  he 
was.     Mr.  Spencer  spoke  as  follows  : 


REV.  JAMES  SELDEN  SPENCER'S  ADDRESS. 

Hazlitt,  in  his  admirable  "Table-Talk,"  has  an  essay 
entitled,  "  Of  Persons  One  would  Wish  to  Have  Seen." 
Lamb  suggested  the  subject  at  a  gathering  of  literary 
men,  among  whom  were  Dr.  Burney,  Leigh  Hunt,  Haz- 
litt, and  other  celebrities.  The  ghosts  of  departed  great- 
ness were  summoned  before  them,  but  with  much  adverse 
criticism.  "  What  we  want  to  see,"  says  Lamb,  "  are 
persons ;  Mr.  Locke  and  Sir  Isaac  Newton  are  not  persons, 
that  is,  not  characters.  When  you  name  them,  you  mean 
the  *  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,'  and  the 
'  Principia.' "  The  discussion  as  to  whom  one  would 
wish  to  have  seen,  seemed  to  turn,  not  simply  upon  the 


20 

preference  to  gaze  upon  men  distinguished  by  their 
works,  but  upon  the  point  of  personality.  Beyond  the 
deeds  of  great  men  and  the  works  of  great  authors,  there 
may  be  nothing  personally  interesting  in  the  men  them- 
selves. What  we  want  most  to  see  any  one  bodily  for 
is,  because  of  something  peculiar  in  the  individual,  some 
spiritual  magnetism  of  character,  something  more  than 
we  can  learn  from  his  writings,  and  yet  which  we  are 
curious  to  know.  The  discussion  closed  by  Lamb's  say- 
ing :  "  There  is  only  one  other  Person  I  can  ever  think 
of  after  this  ;  if  Shakespeare  were  to  come  into  the  room, 
we  should  all  rise  up  to  meet  him  ;  but  if  that  Person 
were  to  come  into  it,  we  should  all  fall  down  and  try  to 
kiss  the  hem  of  His  garment,"  I  think  most  of  us  in 
this  assembly,  gathered  together  to  honor  his  memory 
on  this  centennial  celebration  of  his  birth,  would  name 
Washington  Irving  as  one  we  would  wish  to  have 
seen.  And  those  of  us  who  have  been  privileged  to  see 
him  in  person  will  certainly  count  it  among  their  most 
valued  recollections  that  they  have  looked  upon  that  dis- 
tinguished man,  around  whose  mind  the  sweetest  visions 
of  fancy  played,  like  gleams  of  pleasant  sunshine  ;  he 
who  stood  in  the  foreground  of  American  literature,  and 
compelled  its  respect  abroad  ;  the  playful  humorist — the 
genial  companion — the  warm-hearted  friend — one  who 
has  handed  down  to  us  the  legends  of  the  past  so  vividly 
that  they  have  become  the  antiquarian  lore  of  our  land — 
one  whose  mind  was  a  store-house  of  curious  and  quaint 
devices — a  true,  honest,  upright.  Christian  gentleman. 
Seldom   has   literary  fame  been  so  beautifully  blended 


21 

with  personal  attractiveness,  nor  did  wit  and  learning 
form  so  close  an  alliance,  as  in  Washington  Irving.  The 
name  of  Irving  has  taken  a  strong  hold,  not  only  upon 
the  American  heart,  but  wherever  the  Saxon  in  which  he 
so  purely  wrote  is  spoken.  Not  only  by  the  educated, 
but  by  common  consent,  his  remarkable  genius  is  recog- 
nized, and  his  fame  secured.  What  largely  evokes  this 
universal  eulogy  is  the  presence  of  the  man  in  his  works. 
In  him  the  affections  and  the  intellect  were  beautifully 
blended  ; — the  affections  flowing  in  upon  the  intellect, 
tempering  it  with  their  hallowed  grace  and  charity,  and 
the  intellect  in  return  giving  strength  and  dignity  to  the 
affections,  illustrating  what  Coleridge  so  aptly  terms  "  the 
heart  in  the  head."  It  is  of  the  man  that  I  am  to  speak 
to-night.  Washington  Irving  is  certainly  the  one  whom 
I  most  rejoice  to  have  seen  ;  and  those  here  present  who 
knew  him  will  bear  me  out  in  the  assertion  that  you  saw 
but  half  of  him  in  his  works  ;  the  other  half — and  that 
the  best  half — was  the  attractive,  winsome,  personal 
character  of  the  man.  I  shall  ever  count  it  among  the 
most  precious  memories  of  my  life  that  I  have  held  in- 
tercourse with  one  so  rarely  gifted  in  heart  and  intellect 
as  he,  and  have  been  privileged  to  minister  unto  him  in 
holy  things. 

Disappointment  has  been  expressed  to  me  more  than 
once  by  friends  who  have  read  the  admirable  "  Life  and 
Letters  of  Washington  Irving,"  that  so  little  is  there  said 
respecting  his  religious  character.  But  that  explanation 
is  found,  when  we  learn  that  the  materials  for  that  work 
were  mainly  prepared  by  Irving  himself,  and  that  the 


22 

most  his  biographer  had  to  do  was  to  weave  them  into 
shape.  The  latter  himself  says  :  "  It  has  been  my  aim  to 
make  the  author,  in  every  stage  of  his  career,  as  far  as 
possible,  his  own  biographer."  Now,  Irving  was  too 
sensitive  and  modest  in  his  nature  to  allow  attention  to 
be  drawn  to  his  religious  convictions.  He  instinctively 
shrank  from  any  such  publicity.  It  has  been  said  that 
every  man  has  two  lives :  that  which  is  open  and  ap- 
parent to  others,  and  that  which  is  known  only  to  him- 
self and  God.  It  was  emphatically  true  of  Irving ;  and 
that  inner  spiritual  life  of  his  was  sacred  to  him  in  its 
privacy,  into  which  no  one  must  intrude.  This  was 
partly  due  to  the  great  constitutional  modesty  of  his 
nature,  which  was  almost  feminine  in  its  delicacy,  and 
partly  to  the  solemn  awe  with  which  the  religion  of 
Christ  impressed  him.  Religion  directed  and  moulded 
his  life,  without  any  self-consciousness,  but  as  an  ac- 
cepted law  of  his  being.  To  be  all  which  his  Maker 
wished  him  to  be,  and  gave  him  power  to  be,  became  a 
law  of  his  existence,  which  he  faithfully  tried  to  fulfil. 
His  religious  convictions  were  deeply  seated  and  sincere. 
If  he  was  not,  with  polemic  skill,  unceasingly  driving  a 
religious  sentiment  into  you  with  his  lips,  he  yet  was 
ever  beautifully  illustrating  the  religious  life  in  his  own. 
Every  thing  like  display  was  foreign  to  his  nature.  His 
piety  was  not  obtrusive,  but  illustrative.  It  flowed, 
not  with  the  noisy  murmurings  of  the  shallow  brook,  but 
with  the  calm,  peaceful,  yet  strong  current  of  the  river. 
He  had  the  faith  and  humanity  of  a  child,  and  in  no  one 
has  rare  modesty  with  greatness  been  more  sweetly  com- 


CHRIST    CHURCH,   TARRYTOWN 


23 

bined.  Sallust's  portrait  of  Cato  is  beautifully  photo- 
graphed in  Irving :  "  He  would  rather  be,  than  seem  to  be 
a  good  man,  so  that  the  less  he  sought  glory,  the  more  he 
obtained  it."  It  was  this  which  made  his  character  so  at- 
tractive, and  his  companionship  so  endearing  to  his 
friends ;  and  no  one  could  draw  near  the  inner  sanctuary 
of  his  heart,  as  some  of  us  were  privileged  to  do,  without 
the  most  confident  assurance  that  he  was  a  true  and  de- 
vout Christian  man. 

My  acquaintance  with  Irving  began  in  the  year  1854, 
under  circumstances  so  tender  and  affecting,  as  to  lead 
me  ever  after  to  regard  him  with  the  deepest  affection. 
At  the  beginning  of  my  ministry  in  Christ  Church,  Tarry- 
town,  a  heavy,  foreboding  sorrow  overshadowed  me  ;  and 
when  the  blow  came  Washington  Irving  was  one 
of  the  first  to  call  upon  me  and  proffer  me  the  comfort 
and  strength  of  his  tender  sympathy.  The  sorrow  of  an- 
other perhaps  awakened  the  memory  of  his  own  anguish 
that  followed  the  loss  of  his  betrothed  love.  The  warm 
and  prolonged  pressure  of  the  hand  made  me  feel  the 
power  of  his  sympathy,  and  then  followed  these  few 
words,  softly  and  gently  spoken  :  "  They  who  minister 
to  others  must  not  themselves  refuse  the  consolation." 
This  may  appear  a  slight  thing  to  others  but  to  me 
it  was  a  personal  revelation  of  human  sympathy,  next  to 
the  peaceful  benediction  of  the  Master  Himself.  We 
often  note  how  the  world  is  surprised  to  learn  that  a  man 
distinguished  for  remarkable  abilities  in  science  or  liter- 
ature is  a  Christian  ;  and  the  surprise  is  often  ac- 
companied by  chagrin, — for  the  world  does  not  willingly 


24 

part  with  its  votaries, — as  if  there  were  something  quite 
out  of  harmony  between  intellectual  gifts  and  the  humil- 
ity of  Christian  faith.  But  with  Irving  that  early  sorrow 
of  his  did  not  leave  his  heart  stranded  upon  the  arid 
sands  of  mere  worldly  renown.  Its  chastening  influence, 
its  hallowed  memories,  made  that  heart  a  sanctuary  for 
more  exalted  hopes,  for  higher  aspirations,  than  earth 
could  ever  satisfy  ;  and  while  the  world  justly  honors 
him  with  her  admiration  for  his  intellectual  triumphs,  the 
beautiful  qualities  of  his  heart  may  as  justly  challenge 
her  profound  esteem  and  love.  I  can  never  forget  the 
embarrassment  which  I  first  experienced  in  preaching  be- 
fore Washington  Irving.  I  painfully  anticipated  the 
criticism  of  one  who  stood  in  the  foremost  rank  of  our 
authors,  whose  chaste  and  elegant  style  has  entitled  him 
to  be  called  the  Addison  of  American  Literature.  But  I 
soon  found  that  there  was  no  more  devout  or  attentive 
listener  in  the  church  than  he.  He  sat  in  his  pew,  with 
his  head  lightly  resting  upon  his  hand,  in  that  pensive  at- 
titude which  one  of  his  portraits  exhibits,  I  think,  with 
great  fidelity  in  the  likeness.  He  would  thus  sit,  with 
his  eye  intent  upon  the  speaker,  as  one  anxious  to  receive 
some  truth  for  his  soul's  health.  With  all  his  powers  of 
mind  he  knew  of  no  other  spiritual  sustenance  than  the 
Gospel  of  Christ ;  and  its  plain,  simple  truths  such  as 
a  little  child  might  comprehend,  were  to  him  like  the 
precious  feeding  upon  the  loaves  broken  in  the  Master's 
hands. 

On  my  first  interview  with  him  at  Sunnysidc  he  in- 
troduced the  subject  of  church  music,  of  which  he  was 


25 

passionately  fond.  He  then  referred  to  the  Gloria  in  Excel- 
sis.  Repeating  the  words,  as  if  they  were  the  joyful  refrain 
of  his  own  heart,  "  Glory  be  to  God  on  high,  and  on  earth 
peace,  good-will  toward  men,"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  and  his  voice  trembling  with  emotion  :  "  That 
is  religion  Mr.  Spencer,  that  is  true  religion  for  you  " — 
a  simple  truth  enough,  you  say,  but  it  assumes  a  vast 
importance  when  it  becomes  the  devout  utterance  of  the 
heart.  In  reference  to  the  same  divine  hymn  he  said  to 
Dr.  Creighton :  "  I  like  it  above  all  things  ;  it  contains 
the  sum  and  substance  of  our  faith,  and  I  never  hear 
it  without  having  my  mind  lifted  up  and  my  heart  made 
better  by  it."  On  another  occasion,  also  at  Sunnyside, 
he  spoke  to  me,  in  words  of  thrilling  tenderness,  of  a  text 
which  had  profoundly  impressed  him.  It  was  this  :  "  My 
son,  give  me  thine  heart."  Here  was  one  of  those  in- 
stances where  a  single  verse  of  Holy  Scripture  will  stand 
out  with  a  distinctness  before  unknown,  and,  as  if  with  a 
divinely  magnetic  force,  draw  the  heart  nearer  and  closer 
to  God.  And  this  text  he  had  thus  treasured  up  as  most 
precious  to  him.  Years  before  he  must  have  been  deeply 
impressed  with  it,  for  on  looking  over  a  volume  of 
Bishop  Wainwright's  sermons  I  find  one  on  this  text, 
accompanied  by  the  statement  in  the  preface,  that  it  was 
suggested  to  the  Bishop  by  Washington  Irving,  as  a  text 
which  he  should  like  of  all  things  to  hear  treated  of  in  a 
sermon.  And  those  of  us  who  knew  him  well  have 
reason  to  believe  that  his  character  was  formed  and 
disciplined  under  a  profound  sense  of  personal  responsi- 
bility to  God.     On  another  occasion,  he  expressed  to  me 


26 

with  great  feeling,  the  same  general  thought,  in  words 
which  may  be  classed  with  the  best  and  most  beautiful  he 
ever  wrote  :  "  Religion  is  of  the  heart — not  of  the  head  ; 
we  may,  with  the  understanding  approach  the  vestibule 
of  the  Temple,  but  it  is  only  with  the  heart  that  we  can 
enter  its  holy  precincts  and  draw  near  its  sacred  altar." 

It  became  a  pleasant  custom  after  morning  service  in 
Christ  Church  for  the  congregation  to  exchange  cordial 
greetings  with  the  venerable  Dr.  Creighton  and  Wash- 
ington Irving  at  the  vestibule.  Some  of  us  remember 
those  delightful  occasions.  Young  children,  of  whom 
Irving  was  specially  fond,  and  who  were  fond  of  him, 
would  surround  him,  putting  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  his 
hand,  or  a  bud  in  his  button-hole, — and  they  would 
always  receive  from  him  a  kind  word  or  a  beaming  smile. 
He  diffused  the  pleasant  sunshine  of  cheerfulness  all 
around  him,  and  no  one  ever  entered  the  charmed  circle 
of  his  presence  without  feeling  the  better  for  it.  Some- 
times he  would  say,  with  a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand  :  "  I 
thank  you  for  your  sermon,"  and  then  he  would  offer 
some  striking  observation  upon  the  theme.  He  did  not 
intend  by  this  to  be  complimentary.  His  true  heart  had 
no  words  to  waste  in  flattery,  but  he  loved  the  plainest 
truths  of  the  Gospel,  and  prized  them  far  beyond  any 
mere  accessories  of  rhetoric  or  eloquence.  A  strong 
sense  of  religious  obligation  must  have  influenced  him 
quite  early  in  life.  His  parents  were  Scotch  Cove- 
nanters, who  did  not  regard  the  Episcopal  Church  with 
much  favor.  Irving  became  interested  in  the  services  at 
Trinity  Church,  New  York,  and  attended  there,  whenever 


27 

he  could  find  opportunity,  without  his  father's  knowl- 
edge. When  a  confirmation  was  announced,  we  read  in 
his  Biography,  that  he  stealthily  left  his  home,  when 
quite  young,  and  was  confirmed  by  the  Bishop  in  old 
Trinity  Church.  We  may  detect  in  this  method  of  his 
to  receive  confirmation  something  of  that  vein  of  humor 
blended  with  firmness  in  doing  what  he  felt  to  be  right 
which  so  strongly  marked  his  character  as  a  man.  He 
first  became  a  regular  communicant  in  Christ  Church, 
Tarrytown,  after  the  building  of  Sunnyside,  and  he 
always  continued  a  most  devout  and  exemplary  member 
of  the  parish.  On  one  occasion  he  said  that  when  he 
first  attended  church  he  felt  but  little  interest  in  the  ser- 
vice, and  waited  rather  impatiently  till  it  was  over,  and 
then  settled  himself  down  to  listen  to  the  sermon.  But 
one  Sunday,  he  said,  as  he  was  entering  the  church,  the 
solemn  exhortation  to  confession  was  being  read,  and 
the  thought  struck  him  that  he  too  had  sins  to  confess, 
and  so  he  fell  upon  his  knees  and  joined  in  solemn  and 
humble  confession  of  sins.  "And,"  said  he,  in  that  em- 
phatic way  which  always  carried  with  it  the  conviction 
of  his  sincerity,  and  with  an  earnest  gesticulation  of  his 
arm  which  some  of  you  will  remember,  "  from  that  day 
forward,  the  church  service  has  ever  been  to  me  an  in- 
creasing comfort  and  delight."  And  who  will  say  that 
the  Bible  and  the  Prayer-Book  of  that  fair  maiden  who 
was  Washington  Irving's  early  and  only  love, — she  who 
"  died  in  the  beauty  of  her  youth,  and  so  in  his  memory 
was  ever  young  and  beautiful," — who  will  say  that  those 
treasured  volumes,  which  from  the  first  hour  of  agony  at 


28 

his  irreparable  loss  were  ever  by  him,  taken  with  him  in 
all  his  travels,  and  at  his  death  still  lay  by  his  side,  were 
not,  from  their  sweetly  sad  associations,  as  well  as  from 
their  spiritual  counsel  and  comfort,  the  means  of  hallow- 
ing that  gifted  heart  with  high  and  holy  purposes  of  love 
and  duty  to  God  and  man,  and  with  the  blessed  hope  of 
everlasting  life,  in  which  he  lived  and  died  ? 

Passing  on  from  these  recollections,  let  me  touch  upon 
some  points  of  his  character  which  are  more  generally 
recognized.  Sunnyside  and  Christ  Church  were  both 
built  in  the  same  year,  1836.  That  sweet  ivy-crowned 
home  of  Irving,  nestling  amid  the  trees  on  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson,  is  familiar  to  all.  The  ivy  upon  the  church 
tower  was  planted  by  his  hand,  taken  from  the  vine 
which  now  mantles  in  rich  luxuriance  the  walls  of  Sunny- 
side,  and  which  was  originally  brought  from  the  ruins  of 
Melrose  Abbey.  Within  the  church  there  still  remains 
his  pew,  in  which  many  pilgrims  to  this  shrine  of 
Irving's  religious  life  love  for  a  moment  to  sit.  The 
pew  is  marked  with  his  name,  and  was  set  apart  years 
ago  by  the  vestry  for  the  use  of  any  members  of  the 
Irving  family  who  might  worship  with  us,  if  but  for  an 
hour.  As  near  the  pew  as  it  could  be  placed  is  a  beauti- 
ful mural  tablet,  erected  by  the  vestry  to  his  memory. 
It  is  skilfully  and  delicately  wrought,  and  is  in  itself  a 
poem  in  stone.  In  the  centre  is  the  Irving  coat  of  arms, 
two  royal  supporters  holding  a  shield,  emblazoned  with 
holly  leaves,  having  as  a  crest  a  hand  holding  a  bunch  of 
holly.  The  tradition  is  that  when  Robert  Bruce  of 
Scotland  was  a  fugitive  from   King   Edward,  on  being 


29 

pursued  by  his  troops,  he,  with  a  few  friends,  among 
whom  was  William  Irvin — the  first  Irving  of  whom  we 
have  any  record — took  refuge  in  a  copse  of  holly  and 
escaped  detection.  On  coming  out,  Bruce  plucked  off 
the  topmost  branch  of  the  holly,  and  adopted  it  as  his 
own  crest,  with  the  motto,  Sjib  sole,  sub  umbra,  virens — 
"  Thriving  in  sun  or  shade," — in  prosperity  or  adversity. 
Ever  since  then  the  Scots  have  a  saying  that  the  upper 
branch  of  the  holly  never  withers.  When  Bruce  won  his 
throne,  he  knighted  Sir  William  de  Irvin,  his  faithful 
friend  in  adversity,  gave  him  the  Castle  of  Drum,  in 
Aberdeenshire,  now  the  oldest  inhabited  castle  in  Scot- 
land, and  still  in  possession  of  a  distant  branch  of  the 
family,  and  at  the  same  time  gave  him  this,  his  own  coat 
of  arms,  in  memory  of  his  perilous  escape.  In  this  tablet 
the  holly  leaves  and  berries  are  beautifully  interwoven  in 
Caen  stone  as  the  capitals  of  its  marble  columns.  The 
holly  now  becomes  not  only  the  sign  of  the  deliverance 
of  Irving's  ancestor  and  his  king,  but  also  the  emblem  of 
Christmas  joy  into  which  Irving  so  heartily  entered.  On 
the  stone  is  the  following  inscription  : 

BORN  IN  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK,  APRIL  3D,   1 783. 

FOR  MANY  YEARS  A  COMMUNICANT  AND  WARDEN  OF  THIS  CHURCH, 

AND 

REPEATEDLY   ONE   OF   ITS   DELEGATES   TO   THE  CONVENTION 

OF   THE   DIOCESE. 

LOVED,  HONORED,   REVERED. 

He  fell  asleep  in    yestis,  - 

NOVEMBER  28tH,  1859. 


30 

Irving  was  elected  Warden  of  Christ  Church  after  his 
return  from  his  mission  as  U.  S.  Minister  to  Spain.  This 
office  of  Warden  he  held  until  his  death.  The  vestry  of 
Christ  Church  had  among  its  members  for  many  years, 
Rev.  Dr.  Creighton,  Washington  Irving,  Gen.  James 
Watson  Webb,  and  other  men  of  marked  intelligence, 
and  we  may  imagine  the  wit  and  wisdom  which  sparkled 
at  their  meetings.  Genius,  courtesy,  racy,  genuine  humor, 
blended  with  the  highest  considerations  of  duty,  will 
rarely  so  meet  again  on  common  ground.  It  became 
Irving's  duty,  as  one  of  the  wardens,  to  gather  the  offer- 
ings of  the  congregation,  or,  in  parlance,  to  "  take  up 
the  collection,"  and  he  claimed  no  right  of  exemption 
from  what  might  be  supposed  to  constitute  a  very  unat- 
tractive performance.  One  Sunday,  on  coming  out  of 
church,  he  said,  his  eyes  twinkling  with  humor :  "  I  have 
passed  that  plate  so  often  up  and  down  the  aisle,  that  I 
begin  to  feel  like  a  highwayman.  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
stop  a  man  on  the  road,  and  say,  '  Your  money,  or  your 
life.'  " 

At  a  vestry-meeting  he  once  modestly  remarked  that 
he  had  now  taken  up  the  collection  in  church  for  a  very 
long  time,  and  he  ventured  to  ask  if  some  one  of  his 
juniors  in  the  vestry  would  not  relieve  him  of  this  duty. 
One  of  the  vestry  sprang  to  his  feet  at  once,  and  said  : 
"  Mr.  Chairman,  I  protest  against  any  such  step  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Irving ; — it  will  create  great  confusion  ;  the 
service  will  be  neglected,  and  the  sermon  unheeded. 
When  I  bring  my  friends  with  me  to  church,  the  first 
question  I  am  asked  is,  '  Which  is  Mr.  Irving  ? '  and  all  I 


31 

have  to  say  is  :  *  Mr.  Irving  is  the  gentleman  who  will, 
by  and  by,  pass  the  plate  in  the  north  aisle ;  '  but  if  he 
gives  up  this  duty,  I  shall  have  to  rise  up  in  my  pew,  and 
thus  point  him  out  to  my  friends,"  [here,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,]  "  There  he  is  !  there  he  is  !  "  Irving, 
who  greatly  enjoyed  a  joke,  even  at  his  own  expense, 
laughed  heartily,  said  no  more  about  declining,  and 
**  passed  the  plate  "  until  within  a  fortnight  of  his  death, 
at  one  of  the  vestry-meetings,  Mr.  Holmes  was  ac- 
companied by  an  inoffensive  pet  dog,  who  took  refuge 
at  his  feet.  Some  question  of  more  serious  moment  than 
usual  had  arisen,  which  led  to  animated  discussion.  Mr. 
Holmes,  in  his  earnest  and  emphatic  matter,  pressed  his 
views  upon  the  vestry,  and  the  discussion  threatened  to 
be  prolonged  and  serious.  When  he  had  ended,  Mr. 
Irving  arose,  and  inquired  of  the  Chairman  whether  Mr. 
Holmes  should  be  allowed  to  put  them  all  in  bodily 
terror ;  for  he  had  not  only  come  here  to  advocate  his 
measure,  but  had  brought  with  him  a  fierce  beast,  to 
overawe  the  vestry  and  control  their  votes :  "  And,"  he 
added,  pointing  to  the  little  dog,  "there  he  is  now,  by 
his  side,  keeping  guard."  The  irresistible  drollery  of  his 
speech  and  manner  allayed  at  once  the  heat  of  the 
debate,  and  diffused  a  feeling  of  perfect  good  nature 
over  the  meeting,  which  gave  a  satisfactory  settlement  to 
the  question. 

Mr.  Holmes  was  at  one  time  complaining  to  Irving 
that  some  boys  had  broken  the  church  windows,  and  that 
severe  measures  must  be  taken  to  stop  them.  "  Now, 
Holmes,"  says  Irving,  "  you  are  the  senior  Warden,  and 


32 

if  any  of  the  boys  are  to  be  punished  for  breaking  the 
church  windows,  you  are  the  one  to  do  it,  and  not  I." 
He  would  always  be  on  good  terms  with  the  boys,  and 
doubtless  recalled  his  own  boyish  pranks.  Think  of  the 
innate  love  of  fun  which  prompted  him,  when  a  boy  on 
a  visit  to  Gen,  Paulding's  house  in  this  village,  to  rise  at 
midnight,  go  up  to  the  old  Dutch  Church,  and  there 
energetically  ring  the  church  bell,  to  the  alarm  of  all  the 
ghost-fearing  burghers  round  the  country,  and  you  have 
the  germ  of  that  mirth-provoking  spirit,  which  diffused 
cheerfulness  and  good  humor  all  around  him,  and  made 
him  the  sunshine  of  the  circle  in  which  he  moved. 

In  his  conversation,  as  in  his  writings,  there  was  no 
affectation,  no  parade  of  learning,  no  dazzling  brilliancy, 
but  every  thing  was  natural,  simple,  unaffected,  often 
mirthful,  but  never  coarse — never  vulgar,  never  rude. 
We  all  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  wield  the  shafts  of  wit 
and  humor  without  inflicting  pain  upon  others.  But  I 
never  heard  an  unkind  or  bitter  word  fall  from  Irving's 
lips,  nor  do  I  believe  that  any  one  ever  winced  at  his 
keen,  yet  inoffensive  humor.  He  was  slow  and  hesitating 
in  conversation,  and  the  first  impression  on  hearing  him 
talk  might  be  one  of  disappointment ;  but  you  soon  felt 
its  irresistible  fascination.  He  would  often  hesitate  for 
a  word,  but  when  he  found  it,  you  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  just  the  word  needed  to  make  the  thought  perfect. 
He  told  me  that  he  wrote  his  MSS.  in  the  same  hesitating 
way  as  it  were,  that  is,  with  continual  corrections  ;  and 
even  after  the  proof-sheets  were  sent  to  him  to  read  over, 
he  would  still  alter  and    interline,  to  the  confusion,   no 


33 

doubt,  of  the  printer,  but  to  the  clearer  perception  of  his 
thought.  Yet  how  simple  is  the  style  of  Irving  !  It  is 
elaborated,  painstaking  simplicity.  "  Now,"  said  he  to 
me,  as  he  had  sent  off  the  last  sheet  of  his  final  work,  the 
Biography  of  Washington — a  work  which  had  engaged 
his  thoughts  and  pen  for  years — "  Now  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
just  ready  to  sit  down,  and  begin  to  write  the  Life  of 
Washington." 

At  a  dinner  party,  I  was  one  of  a  little  crowd 
gathered  round  him,  to  whom  he  told  the  following 
story,  which  I  will  give  in  his  own  words :  "  Shortly 
after  the  '  Sketch-Book '  was  published  in  England,  when 
I  began  to  be  known,  I  entered  a  store  in  London  to 
make  some  purchases.  Wishing  them  sent  to  my  rooms, 
the  shopkeeper  asked  me  my  name.  '  Mr.  Irving,' 
I  replied.  *  Ah  !  '  said  the  tradesman,  '  you  bear  the 
name  of  a  great  man,  sir.'  'Thank  you,'  I  answered, 
with  a  look  of  becoming  modesty,  *  my  friends  are  too 
considerate  of  me.'  '  A  great  man,'  said  the  othtff — 'great 
preacher !  great  preacher ! '  I  then  found  that  he  was 
referring  to  the  Scotch  preacher,  Rev.  Edward  Irving,  who 
was  then  beginning  to  make  a  great  stir  in  London,  and  I 
escaped  from  the  store  with  the  rising  conceit  taken  all  out 
of  me."  Shortly  after  hearing  this  story,  I  came  across 
an  incident  in  the  Life  of  Thomas  Campbell,  which  was 
so  exact  a  counterpart  to  Irving's,  that  I  took  it  to  Sun- 
nyside,  and  read  it  to  him.  The  poet  had  been  greeted 
under  like  circumstances  with  Irving,  as  the  great  Mr. 
Campbell,  and  his  writings  held  in  the  highest  esteem  by 
the  worthy  shopkeepers.     Flattered  by  the  undoubted 


34 

sincerity  of  their  admiration,  he  talked  with  them  for  a 
while,  and  very  willingly  gave  a  guinea  subscription  to 
some  benevolent  society  of  which  the  wife  was  treasurer. 
But  when  he  was  asked  whether  he  thought  he  would 
ever  make  Christians  of  those  horrible  cannibals,  he  found 
to  his  dismay  that  he  had  been  mistaken  for  a  missionary 
to  Africa,  bearing  the  same  name,  and  he  left  in  haste, 
minus  a  guinea,  and  a  head  shorter  than  he  entered. 
Irving  was  intimate  with  Campbell,  and  was  much  amused 
with  the  story,  which  he  had  not  heard  before,  and  which 
gave  an  experience  so  like  his  own, — only  Irving's  vanity 
did  not  cost  him  a  guinea. 

Let  me  here  add  an  incident  of  his  political  career 
which  he  himself  told  me  ; — it  is  not  mentioned  in  his 
Biography,  I  suppose  because  it  was  not  desired  to  give 
it  publicity  as  the  one  to  whom  it  chiefly  relates  was  living. 

Washington  Irving  was  appointed  Minister  to  Spain 
by  President  Tyler,  in  1842.  The  appointment  was  un- 
doubtedly prompted  by  the  desire  to  honor  our  dis- 
tinguished friend.  Yet  he  brought  eminent  qualities  to 
the  discharge  of  his  official  duties.  A  prior  residence 
in  Spain  had  made  him  familiar  with  the  language  and 
the  habits  of  the  people,  and  his  literary  reputation  and 
personal  character  gained  for  him  at  once  the  confidence 
and  esteem  of  the  Court.  He  had  also  had  some  diplo- 
matic experience  as  Secretary  of  the  American  Legation, 
at  London.  And  when  he  went  as  Minister  to  Spain,  he 
industriously  made  himself  familiar  with  the  require- 
ments of  his  mission.  It  was  during  his  official  career,  when 
that  astute  politician,  James  Buchanan,  was  Secretary  of 


35 

State,  that  the  attitude  of  our  Government  toward 
Mexico  threatened  to  involve  us  in  serious  complications 
with  Spain.  The  Madrid  Government  was  alarmed,  and 
continually  plied  Mr.  Irving  as  to  the  intentions  of  our 
Government.  "  I  wrote  to  Secretary  Buchanan,"  said 
Irving,  "  a  full  account  of  the  state  of  feeling,  but  re- 
ceived no  answer.  I  wrote  again,  and  again,  but  the 
Secretary  of  State  did  not  even  deign  a  reply.  I  stood  a 
mortified  representative  of  my  country  before  that  proud 
and  sensitive  Court ;  and  when  I  returned  home,  I  had 
to  go  on  to  Washington,  hunt  up  the  letters  I  had  writ- 
ten to  Mr.  Buchanan,  and  place  them  myself  on  record 
as  a  part  of  the  history  of  my  misson."  You  may  imagine 
the  effect  of  such  treatment  upon  a  refined,  sensitive 
nature  like  Irving's. 

Six  days  before  the  death  of  Irving,  I  gave  a  gentle- 
man a  letter  of  introduction  to  him.  It  was  the  last  in- 
terview he  ever  had  with  a  stranger.  My  friend  wrote  to 
me  that  Irving  was  exceedingly  kind  and  cordial  in  his 
reception  of  him,  as  he  uniformly  was  to  visitors  properly 
accredited.  Among  other  things,  he  writes:  "I  hap- 
pened to  mention  the  name  of  his  old  friend,  Washington 
Allston.  It  set  Irving's  soul  all  glowing  with  tender,  af- 
fectionate enthusiasm.  To  hear  the  great  painter  so 
praised  by  the  great  writer,  with  a  voice  tremulous, 
partly  with  infirmity,  but  more  with  emotion,  was  some- 
thing to  keep  as  surely  as  if  every  word  had  been  en- 
graved with  a  diamond.  I  did  not  say  a  word  about  his 
fame,  or  his  books  ;  but  I  knew  that  he  recognized  me 
as  one  of  his  thousands  of  admirers,  quite  as  surely  as  if 


36 

I  had  spent  the  time  in  high-wrought  encomiums  upon 
his  writings.  Now  that  he  has  gone,  his  kind  reception 
of  me  will  ever  be  cherished  as  a  benediction." 

On  this  Centennial  Anniversary  of  Washington  Irving's 
birth,  we  have  more  to  commemorate  than  his  services  to 
literature.  Praise  him,  as  we  justly  may,  for  his  works, 
he  was  more  remarkable  for  his  personality  than  his 
writings.  In  this  town  where  he  lived  and  died,  we  want 
to  look  upon  him  in  person ;  we  want  to  evoke  from  the 
shadows  of  the  past  that  form  which  once  walked  in  our 
midst,  as  the  man  of  a  kind,  warm,  tender  heart, — a  man 
loyal  to  every  conviction  of  duty,  a  faithful  friend — in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word,  a  true  Christian  gentleman  ;  hav- 
ing no  enemies,  but  all  friends,  so  that  one  humorously 
denounced  against  him  the  woe  in  the  Gospel,  "  because 
all  men  spake  well  of  him."  Such  memories  of  good  and 
wise  men  are  a  people's  best  heritage ;  they  are  the 
wealth  of  our  land — far  more  than  the  gold  of  California 
and  the  silver  of  Colorado.  They  are  worth  treasuring 
up.  In  Irving's  own  beautiful  words,  which  we  may  ap- 
ply to  him  to-night,  "  there  is  a  remembrance  of  the 
dead  to  which  we  turn  even  from  the  charms  of  the  liv- 
ing." So  we,  to-night,  by  an  apotheosis  of  our  reverent 
and  loving  hearts,  place  Washington  Irving  among  the 
number  of  those  in  our  land  who  have  sanctified  the 
greatness  they  have  achieved  by  their  goodness,  who 
have  added  the  softened  lustre  of  all  that  is  graceful 
and  pure  and  lovely  in  life  to  the  valor  of  the  soldier, 
to  the  eloquence  of  the  statesman,  to  the  learning  of  the 
author.     And   through   the   summer    of    our    country's 


37 

youth,  and  the  winter  of  her  age,  Irving's  memory  shall 
be  as  green  and  fadeless  as  the  ivy  that  mantles  his  own 
sweet  Sunnyside.     [Applause]. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  address,  which  held  the  close 
attention  of  the  audience,  Miss  Sears  sang  "The  Last 
Chord," — Miss  Proctor's  words  set  to  music  by  Sullivan 

Judge  Davis  then  announced  an  address  "  by  Irving's 
old-time  friend  and  companion,  and  our  friend,  Mr.  Don- 
ald G.  Mitchell."  Mr.  Mitchell  then  rose  and  delivered 
the  following  address : 

MR.  DONALD  G.  MITCHELL'S  ADDRESS. 

You  are  met  to-night  to  pay  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
a  man  we  all  loved — born  a  hundred  years  ago. 

Yet,  we  who  put  voice  to  your  tribute  are  brought  to 
pause  at  the  very  start  :  Who  can  say  over  again — in  a 
way  that  shall  make  listeners — the  praises  of  a  balmy  day 
in  June  ? 

Simply  to  recall  him,  however,  is — I  think — to  honor 
him  :  for  there  is  no  memory  of  him  however  shadowy 
or  vagrant  which  is  not  grateful  to  you, — to  me  and  to 
all  the  reading  world. 

It  is  now  wellnigh  upon  thirty-five  years  since  I  first 
met  Mr.  Irving:  It  was  in  a  sunny  parlor  in  one  of  the 
houses  of  that  Colonnade  Row  which  stands  opposite  the 
Astor  Library  in  Lafayette  Place,  New  York.  I  can  re- 
call vividly  the  trepidation  which  I  carried  to  that  meet- 
ing— so  eager  to  encounter  the  man  whom  all  honored 
and  admired — so    apprehensive   lest   a   chilling  dignity 


38 

might  disturb  my  ideal.  And  when  that  smiling,  quiet, 
well-preserved  gentleman  (I  could  hardly  believe  him 
sixty-five)  left  his  romp  with  some  of  his  little  kinsfolk, 
to  give  me  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  and  thereafter  to 
run  on  in  lively,  humorsome  chat — stealing  all  trepida- 
tion out  of  me,  by — I  know  not  what — kindly  magnetism 
of  voice  and  manner,  it  was  as  if  some  one  were  playing 
counterfeit — as  if  the  venerated  author  were  yet  to  ap- 
pear and  displace  this  beaming,  winning  personality, 
with  some  awful  dignity  that  should  put  me  again  into 
worshipful  tremor. 

But  no  :  this  was  indeed  Mr.  Irving — hard  as  it  was  to 
adjust  this  gracious  presence  so  full  of  benignity,  with 
the  author  who  had  told  the  story  of  the  Knickerbockers 
and  of  Columbus. 

Another  puzzle  to  me  was — how  this  easy-going 
gentleman,  with  his  winning  mildness  and  quiet  delibera- 
tion,— as  if  he  never  could,  and  never  did,  and  never  tvould 
knuckle  down  to  hard  task-work, — should  have  reeled  out 
those  hundreds — nay,  thousands  of  pages  of  graceful, 
well-ordered,  sparkling  English. 

I  could  not  understand  how  he  did  it.  I  do  not  think 
we  ever  altogether  understand  how  the  birds  sing  and 
sing ;  and  yet,  with  feathers  quite  unruffled,  and  eyes  al- 
ways a-twinkle. 

My  next  sight  of  Mr.  Irving  was  hereabout,  at  his  own 
home.  By  his  kind  invitation  I  had  come  up  to  pass  a 
day  with  him  at  Sunnyside,  and  he  had  promised  me  a 
drive  through  Sleepy  Hollow. 

What  a  promise  that  was  !     No  boy  ever  went  to  his 


39 

Christmas  holidays  more  joyously,  I  think,  than  I,  to 
meet  that  engagement. 

It  was  along  this  road,  beside  which  we  are  assembled 
to-night,  that  we  drove.  He  all  alert  and  brisk,  with  the 
cool  morning  breeze  blowing  down  upon  us  from  the 
Haverstraw  heights  and  across  the  wide  sweep  of  river. 

He  called  attention  to  the  spot  of  poor  Andre's  cap- 
ture— not  forbearing  that  little  touch  of  sympathy,  which 
came  to  firmer  yet  not  disloyal  expression,  afterward,  in 
his  story  of  Washington.  A  sweep  of  his  whip-hand  told 
me  the  trees  under  which  Paulding  and  the  rest 
chanced  to  be  loitering  on  that  memorable  day. 

We  were  whirling  along  the  same  road  a  short  way 
farther  northward,  when  I  ventured  to  query  about  the 
memorable  night-ride  of  Ichabod  Crane  and  of  the  Head- 
less Horseman. 

Aye,  it  was  thereabout  that  tragedy  came  off  too. 

"  Down  this  bit  of  road  the  old  horse  '  Gunpowder  ' 
came  thundering:  there  away — Brom  Bones  with  his 
Pumpkin  (I  tell  you  this  in  confidence,"  he  said)  "was 
in  waiting ;  and  along  here  they  went  clattering  neck 
and  neck — Ichabod  holding  a  good  seat  till  Van  Ripper's 
saddle-girths  gave  way,  and  then  bumping  and  jouncing 
from  side  to  side  as  he  clung  to  mane  or  neck,  [a  little 
pantomime  with  the  whip  making  it  real]  and  so  at  last 
— away  yonder — well,  where  you  like,  the  poor  pedagogue 
went  sprawling  to  the  ground — I  hope  in  a  soft  place." 
And  I  think  the  rollicking  humor  of  it  was  as  much  en- 
joyed by  him  that  autumn  morning,  and  that  he  felt  in 
his  bones  just  as  relishy  a  smack  of  it  all — as  if  Katrina 


40 

Van  Tassel  had  held  her  quilting  frolic  only  on  the  yes- 
ter-night. 

Irving  first  came  to  know  Tarrytown  and  Sleepy  Hol- 
low when  a  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen — he  passing  some 
holidays  in  these  parts,  I  think,  with  his  friend  Paulding. 
To  those  days  belong  much  of  that  idle  sauntering  along 
brook-sides  hereabout — with  fly-hooks  and  fish-rods,  and 
memories  of  Walton,  which  get  such  delightful  recogni- 
tion in  a  certain  paper  of  the  "  Sketch-Book." 

Then,  too,  he  with  his  companions  came  to  know  the 
old  Dutch  farmers  of  the  region — whose  home  interiors 
found  their  way  afterward  into  his  books. 

I  think  he  pointed  out  also,  with  a  significant  twinkle 
of  the  eye,  which  the  dullest  boy  would  have  under- 
stood, some  orchards,  with  which  he  had  early  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  specially,  too,  upon  some  hill-top  (which  I 
think  I  could  find  now),  a  farmery,  famous  for  its  cider- 
mill  and  the  good  cider  made  there  ;  he,  with  the  rest, 
testing  it  over  and  over  in  the  old  slow  way  with  straws, 
but  provoked  once  on  a  time  to  a  fuller  test,  by  turn- 
ing the  hogshead,  so  they  might  sip  from  the  open  bung  ; 
and  then  (whether  out  of  mischief  or  mishandling,  he  did 
not  absolutely  declare  to  me)  the  big  barrel  got  the  better 
of  them,  and  set  off  upon  a  lazy  roll  down  the  hill — going 
faster  and  faster — they,  more  and  more  frightened,  and 
scudding  away  slant-wise  over  the  fences — the  yelling 
farmer  appearing  suddenly  at  the  top  of  the  slope,  but 
too  broad  in  the  beam  for  any  sharp  race,  and  the  hogs- 
head between  them  plunging,  and  bounding,  and  giving 
out  ghostly,  guttural  explosions  of  sound,  and  cider,  at 
every  turn. 


41 

You  may  judge  if  Mr.  Irving  did  not  put  a  nice  touch 
to  that  story ! 

After  this  memorable  autumn  drive  amongst  the  hills, 
I  met  with  Mr.  Irving  frequently  at  his  own  home  ;  and 
shall  I  be  thought  impertinent  and  indiscreet  if  I  say 
that  at  times — rare  times,  it  is  true — I  have  seen  this 
most  amiable  gentleman  manifest  a  little  of  that  restive 
choler  which  sometimes  flamed  up  in  William  the  Testy, 
— not  long-lived,  not  deliberate, — but  a  little  human  blaze, 
of  impatience  at  something  gone  awry  in  the  dressing  of 
a  garden  border,  in  the  care  of  some  stable-pet — that  was 
all  gone  with  the  first  blaze,  but  marked  and  indicated 
the  sources  of  that  wrathy  and  pious  zest  (with  which 
he  is  not  commonly  credited)  with  which  he  loved  to  put 
a  contemptuous  thrust  of  his  sharper  language  into  the 
bloat  of  upstart  pride,  and  of  conceit,  and  of  insolent 
pretension. 

The  boy-mischief  in  him — which  led  him  out  from  his 
old  home  in  William  Street,  after  hours,  over  the  shed- 
roof — lingered  in  him  for  a  good  while,  I  think,  and  lent 
not  a  little  point  to  some  of  the  keener  pictures  of  the 
Knickerbocker  history  ;  and,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  there 
was  now  and  then  a  quiet  chuckle,  as  he  told  me  of  the 
foolish  indignation  with  which  some  descendants  of  the 
old  Dutch  worthies  had  seen  their  ancestors  put  to  a 
tender  broil  over  the  playful  blaze  of  his  humor. 

Indeed  there  was  a  spontaneity  and  heartiness  about 
that  Knickerbocker  history,  which  I  think  he  carried  a 
strong  liking  for,  all  his  life. 

The  "  Sketch-Book,"  written  years  later,  and  when  neces- 


42 

sity  enforced  writing,  was  done  with  a  great  audience  in 
his  eye  ;  and  he  won  it,  and  keeps  it  bravely.  I  know 
there  is  a  disposition  to  speak  of  it  rather  patronizingly 
and  apologetically — as  if  it  were  reminiscent — Anglican 
— conventional — as  if  he  would  have  done  better  if  he 
had  possessed  our  modern  critical  bias — or  if  he  had  been 
born  in  Boston — or  born  a  philosopher  outright :  Well, 
perhaps  so — perhaps  so!  But  I  love  to  think  and  believe 
that  our  dear  old  Mr.  Irving  was  born  just  where  he 
should  have  been  born,  and  wrote  in  a  way  that  it  is 
hardly  worth  our  while  to  try  and  mend  for  him. 

I  understand  that  a  great  many  promising  young 
people — without  the  fear  of  the  critics  before  their  eyes 
— keep  on,  persistently  reading  that  old  "  Sketch-Book," 
with  its  "Broken  Hearts,"  and  "  Wife  "  twining  like  a 
vine,  and  "  Spectre  Bridegroom,"  and  all  the  rest. 

And  there  are  old  people  I  know, — one  I  am  sure  of, — 
who  never  visit  St.  Paul's  Church-yard  without  wanting  to 
peep  over  Irving's  shoulders  into  Mr.  Newbury's  shop, 
full  of  dear  old  toy-books  ; — who  never  go  to  Stratford- 
upon-Avon  but  there  is  a  hunt — first  of  all — for  the  Red 
Horse  Tavern  and  the  poker  which  was  Irving's  sceptre  ; 
— never  sail  on  summer  afternoons  past  the  wall  of  the 
blue  Katskills,  but  there  is  a  longing  look-out  for  the  stray 
cloud-caps,  and  an  eager  listening  for  the  rumbling  of  the 
balls  which  thundered  in  the  ears  of  poor  Rip  Van 
Winkle. 

What,  pray,  if  the  hero  of  "  Bracebridge  Hall  "  be  own 
cousin  to  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  ?  Is  that  a  relationship 
to  be  discarded  ?     And  could  any  other  than  the  writer 


43 

we  honor  carry  on  more  wisely  the  record  of  the  cousin- 
ship,  or  with  so  sure  a  hand  and  so  deft  a  touch  declare 
and  establish  our  inheritance  in  the  rural  beatitudes  of 
England  ? 

It  may  be  true  that  as  we  read  some  of  those  earlier 
books  of  his  we  shall  come  upon  some  truisms  which  in 
these  fast-paced  times  may  chafe  us, — some  rhetorical 
furbelows  or  broidery  that  belong  to  the  wardrobes  of 
the  past, — some  tears  that  flow  too  easily, — but  scarce  ever 
a  page  anywhere  but,  on  a  sudden,  some  shimmer  of 
buoyant  humor  breaks  through  all  the  crevices  of  a  sen- 
tence,— a  humor  not  born  of  rhetoric  or  measurable  by 
critics'  rules, — but  coming  as  the  winds  come,  and  playing 
up  and  down  with  a  frolicsome,  mischievous  blaze,  that 
warms,  and  piques,  and  delights  us. 

In  the  summer  of  1852  I  chanced  to  be  quartered  at 
the  same  hotel  with  him  in  Saratoga  for  a  fortnight  or 
more.  He  was  then  in  his  seventieth  year — but  still 
carrying  himself  easily  up  and  down  upon  the  corridors, 
and  along  the  street,  and  through  the  grove  at  the  spring. 

I  recall  vividly  the  tremulous  pride  with  which,  in  those 
far-off  days,  I  was  permitted  to  join  in  many  of  these  walks. 
He  in  his  dark  suit — of  such  cut  and  fit  as  to  make  one  for- 
get utterly  its  fashion — and  remember  only  the  figure  of  the 
quiet  gentleman,  looking  hardly  middle-aged,  with  head 
thrown  slightly  to  one  side,  and  an  eye  always  alert  ;  not 
a  fair  young  face  dashing  past  us  in  its  drapery  of  muslin, 
but  his  eye  drank  in  all  its  freshness  and  beauty  with  the 
keen  appetite  and  the  grateful  admiration  of  a  boy ;  not 
a  dowager  brushed  us,  bedizened  with  finery,  but  he  fast- 


44 

ened  the  apparition  in  my  memory  with  some  piquant 
remark — as  the  pin  of  an  entomologist  fastens  a  gaudy  fly. 

Other  times  there  was  a  playful  nudge  of  the  elbow, 
and  a  curious,  meaning  lift  of  the  brow,  to  call  attention 
to  something  of  droll  aspect — perhaps  some  threatened 
scrimmage  amongst  school-boys — may  be,  only  a  passing 
encounter  between  street  dogs — for  he  had  all  the  quick 
responsiveness  to  canine  language  which  belonged  to  the 
author  of  "  Rab  and  his  Friends  "  ;  and  I  have  known 
him  to  stay  his  walk  for  five  minutes  together  in  a  boyish, 
eager  intentness  upon  those  premonitions  of  a  dog  en- 
counter— watching  the  first  inquisitive  sniff — the  remi- 
niscent lift  of  the  head — then  the  derogatory  growl — the 
growl  apprehensive — the  renewed  sniff — the  pauses  for 
reflection,  then  the  milder  and  discursive  growls — as  if 
either  dog  could,  if  he  would — until  one  or  the  other, 
thinking  more  wisely  of  the  matter,  should  turn  tail,  and 
trot  quietly  away. 

I  trust  I  do  not  seem  to  vulgarize  the  occasion  in  bring- 
ing to  view  these  little  traits  which  set  before  us  the 
man  :  as  I  have  already  said,  we  cannot  honor  him  more 
than  by  recalling  him  in  his  full  personality. 

Over  and  over  in  his  shrugs,  in  a  twinkle  of  his  eye,  in 
that  arching  of  his  brow  which  was  curiously  full  of 
meaning,  did  I  see,  as  I  thought,  the  germ  of  some  new 
chapter,  such  as  crept  into  his  sketch-books.  Did  I  inti- 
mate as  much  : — "  Ah,"  he  would  say,  "  that  is  game  for 
youngsters  ;  we  old  fellows  are  not  nimble  enough  to  give 
chase  to  sentiment." 

He  was  engaged  at  that  time  upon  his  "  Life  of  Wash- 


45 

ington " — going  out,  as  I  remember,  on  one  of  these 
Saratoga  days,  for  a  careful  inspection  of  the  field  of 
Burgoyne's  surrender. 

I  asked  after  the  system  of  his  note-making  for  history. 
"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  don't  talk  to  me  of  system  ;  I  never  had 
any  ;  you  must  go  to  Bancroft  for  that :  I  have,  it  is  true, 
my  little  budgets  of  notes — some  tied  one  way,  some 
another — and  which,  when  I  need,  I  think  I  come  upon  in 
my  pigeon-holes  by  a  sort  of  instinct.  That  is  all  there 
is  of  it." 

There  were  some  two  or  three  beautiful  dark-eyed 
women  that  summer  at  Saratoga,  who  were  his  special 
admiration,  and  of  whose  charms  of  feature  he  loved  to 
discourse  eloquently. 

Those  dark  eyes  led  him  back,  doubtless,  to  the  glad 
young  days  when  he  had  known  the  beauties  of  Seville 
and  Cordova.  Indeed,  there  was  no  episode  in  his  life  of 
which  he  was  more  prone  to  talk,  than  of  that  which  car- 
ried him  in  his  Spanish  studies  to  the  delightful  regions 
which  lie  south  of  the  Gaudalquiver.  Granada — the  Al- 
hambra — those  names  made  the  touchstone  of  his  most 
gushing  and  eloquent  talk. 

Much  as  he  loved  and  well  as  he  painted  the  green 
fields  of  Warwickshire,  and  the  hedges  and  the  ivy-clad 
towers  and  the  embowered  lanes  and  the  primroses  and 
the  hawthorn  which  set  off  the  stories  of  "  Bracebridge 
Hall,"  yet  I  think  he  was  never  stirred  by  these  memories 
so  much  as  by  the  sunny  valleys  which  lay  in  Andalusia, 
and  by  the  tinkling  fountains  and  rosy  walls  that  caught 
the  sunshine  in  the  palace  courts  of  Granada. 


46 

I  should  say  that  the  crowning  literary  enthusiasms  of 
his  life  were  those  which  grouped  themselves — first  about 
those  early  Dutch  foregatherings  amongst  the  Van 
Twillers  and  the  Stuyvesants  and  the  Van  Tassels — and 
next  and  stronger,  those  others  which  grouped  about  the 
great  Moorish  captains  of  Granada. 

In  the  first — that  is  to  say,  his  Knickerbocker  studies — 
the  historic  sense  was  active  but  not  dominant,  and  his 
humor  in  its  first  lusty  wantonness  went  careering 
through  the  files  of  the  old  magnates,  like  a  boy  at  play  ; 
and  the  memor}'  of  the  play  abode  with  him,  and  had  its 
keen  awakenings  all  through  his  life  ;  there  was  never  a 
year,  I  suspect,  when  the  wooden  leg  of  the  doughty 
Peter  Stuyvesant  did  not  come  clattering  spunkily,  and 
bringing  its  own  boisterous  welcome,  to  his  pleased 
recollection. 

In  the  Spanish  studies  and  amongst  the  Moors  the 
historic  sense  was  more  dominant,  the  humor  more  in 
hand,  and  the  magnificent  ruins  of  this  wrecked  nation — 
which  had  brought  its  trail  of  light  across  Southern 
Europe  from  the  far  East — piqued  all  his  sympathies, 
appealed  to  all  his  livelier  fancies,  and  the  splendors  of 
court  and  camp  lent  a  lustre  to  his  pages  which  he  greatly 
relished. 

No  English-speaking  visitor  can  go  to  the  Alhambra 
now,  or  henceforth  ever  will  go  thither,  but  the  name  of 
the  author  we  honor  to-night  will  come  to  his  lip,  and 
will  lend,  by  some  subtle  magic,  the'  master's  silver>' 
utterance  to  the  dash  of  the  fountains,  to  the  soughing 
of  the  winds,  to  the  chanting  of  the  birds  who  sing  in 
the  ruinous  courts  of  the  Alhambra. 


47 

But  I  keep  you  too  long: — [Cries  of  "No!  no! — go 
on  !  "] — and  yet  I  have  said  no  word  yet  of  that  quality 
in  him  which  will,  I  think,  most  of  all,  make  Centenary 
like  this  follow  upon  Centenary. 

'T  is  the  kindness  in  him:  't  is  the  simple  goodheart- 
edness  of  the  man. 

Did  he  ever  wrong  a  neighbor?  Did  he  ever  say  an 
unkind  thing  of  you,  or  me,  or  any  one?  Can  you  cull 
me  a  sneer,  that  has  hate  in  it,  anywhere  in  his  books  ? 
Can  you  tell  me  of  a  thrust  of  either  words  or  silence, 
which  has  malignity  in  it? 

Fashions  of  books  may  change — do  change  :  a  studious 
realism  may  put  in  disorder  the  quaint  dressing  of  his 
thought ;  an  elegant  philosophy  of  indifference  may 
pluck  out  the  bowels  from  his  books. 

But — the  fashion  of  his  heart  and  of  his  abiding  good- 
will toward  men  will  last — will  last  while  the  hills  last. 

And  when  you*  and  I,  sir,  and  all  of  us  are  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  centennial  calls,  I  think  that  old  Anthony 
Van  Corlear's  trumpet  will  still  boom  along  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson,  heralding  a  man  and  a  master,  who  to 
exquisite  graces  of  speech  added  purity  of  life,  and  to 
the  most  buoyant  and  playful  of  humors  added  a  love 
for  all  mankind. 

When  the  prolonged  and  enthusiastic  applause,  which 
had  found  constant  expression  and  which  was  con- 
tinued for  some  time,  had  subsided,  Judge  Davis  most 

*  Chief-Justice  Davis  presided  over  the  assemblage,  and  brought  to  his 
duties  a  dignity,  a  sympathy,  and  a  quiet  humor  which  went  far  to  make 
the  occasion  memorable. 


48 

happily  said  :  •'  That  was  a  beautiful  address — none 
of  you  can  deny  that  ;  it  is  a  marvel  indeed  ;  and 
[confidentially]  let  me  just  say  to  you,  I  don't  believe 
Mr.  Mitchell  wrote  it, — Mr.  Irving  surely  must  have  writ- 
ten it  himself ;  if  he  did  not,  think  how  he  must  have 
enjoyed  hearing  it  ! "  Judge  Davis  then  announced  an 
address  on  "  Irving's  Influence  as  a  Writer,"  by  Mr. 
Charles  Dudley  Warner. 

MR.  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WARNER'S  ADDRESS. 

We  meet  to-day — the  one-hundredth  anniversary  of 
the  birth  of  Washington  Irving — not  so  much  to  celebrate 
a  great  event  as  a  great  influence.  The  number  of  peo- 
ple interested  in  literature  at  any  one  time  is  small.  Out 
of  the  millions  in  the  republic  who  can  read,  only  a  few 
hundred  thousand  read  books  of  literature  ;  a  few  thou- 
sand copies  supply  the  utmost  demand  of  what  is  called 
the  reading-public  for  the  best  work  of  literature ;  the 
mind  must  be  much  awakened  when  it  reaches  the  point 
of  desire  to  borrow  such  a  wo'rk  ;  it  has  formed  an  un- 
common intellectual  habit  when  it  reaches  the  desire  to 
buy  one,  for  itself,  and  not  as  a  piece  of  conventional 
house-furniture,  or  as  a  holiday  gift  when  invention  fails 
to  suggest  any  thing  else.  Books  are  a  necessity  to  few, 
and  do  not  compete  in  the  minds  of  most  people  with  the 
longing  for  an  ornament,  a  good  dinner,  or  something  to 
"purify  the  blood."  The  author,  of  all  craftsmen,  is  the 
one  whose  occupation  is  regarded  by  the  majority  of  the 
world  as  most  nearly  superfluous,  who  is  most  insecure  in 


\    i 


49 

his  position,  and  most  open  to  attack,  and  who  has  no 
legal  right  in  his  productions  except  by  grace.  The 
Psalmist  understood  the  disadvantages  of  the  author ;  he 
knew  what  act  would  put  a  man  in  his  power,  and  he  never 
exclaimed :  "  Oh !  that  mine  enemy  would  invent  a 
patent  medicine." 

But  however  literature  may  be  regarded,  it  is  the  most 
potent  and  enduring  influence — except  supernatural  in- 
fluence— in  the  world.  No  monument  erected  by  men  is 
so  lasting,  no  event  of  whatever  historic  significance  is  so 
far-reaching,  so  perpetual  in  its  power  to  mould  thought, 
and  shape  institutions,  and  form  character.  It  is  a  silent, 
controlling,  civilizing  force  in  society,  permeating  the 
whole  mass,  far  beyond  the  limit  of  those  who  recognize 
its  power.  The  birth  of  a  boy  in  the  little  house  on 
William  Street,  in  New  York,  a  century  ago,  was  not  an 
event  promising  importance.  It  was  a  great  age,  an  age 
of  great  events  and  great  men.  It  was  the  era  of  the 
making  of  a  nation,  of  an  original  political  development 
unexampled  in  history ;  when  we  recall  the  names  of 
Franklin,  Washington,  the  Adamses,  Hamilton,  Madison, 
Jefferson,  Jay,  and  their  compeers,  we  name  a  group  of 
men  almost  unrivalled  in  lustre  and  achievement.  In  the 
work  of  that  time  and  of  the  years  following,  which  de- 
termined the  political  destiny  of  America,  Irving  had  lit- 
tle share.  In  naming  the  men  who  had  contributed  most 
to  make  America  what  it  was  up  to  the  year  1835,  the 
historian  would  scarcely  have  included  Washington 
Irving. 

A  century  has  passed  since  General  Washington  saw 


50 

the  last  symbol  of  British  authority  in  these  States  dis- 
appear through  the  Narrows,  and  influences  have  gained 
a  new  proportion  in  our  eyes.  Something  else  has  gone 
to  the  making  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  what 
they  are  besides  political  wisdom  and  energy;  another 
force,  perhaps  scarcely  recognized  as  a  force,  has  been 
slowly  at  work — a  refining,  modifying  force,  a  process  which 
changes  mankind,  enlarges  the  rational  pleasure  of  life, 
gives  a  new  tone  and  meaning  to  it,  broadens  and  civil- 
izes. About  the  year  1822  the  elder  Dana  wrote  to  Mr. 
Bryant,  urging  him  to  write  a  longer  poem  than  he  had 
yet  attempted :  "  There  are  men  of  talent  enough  to 
carry  on  the  common  world,  but  men  of  genius  are  not 
so  plenty  that  any  can  afford  to  be  idle,  neither  can  any 
man  tell  how  great  the  effect  of  a  work  of  genius  is  in 
the  course  of  time.  Set  about  it  in  good  earnest."  No 
doubt  Mr.  Bryant  did  noble  service  with  his  political  pen, 
but  the  greater  service  to  his  country  and  to  mankind, 
the  service  which  helped  to  give  us  a  place  in  universal 
literature,  was  of  another  sort,  and  his  influence  that  en- 
dures is  in  those  poems  which  appeal  to  the  heart  of 
mankind.  When  Irving  was  creating  the  vast  Knicker- 
bocker legend,  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  seemed  idle  and 
ephemeral  work  to  the  politicians,  lawyers,  merchants, 
and  builders  of  new  enterprises,  in  comparison  with  the 
important  business  they  had  in  hand.  Their  business 
was  important,  as  to-day's  always  is,  and  I  would  indulge 
in  no  comparison  to  disparage  it.  But  a  grain  of  genius 
is  the  mustard  seed  of  the  parable.  The  addition  of  one 
original  page   to  literature   is   of    incalculable    moment. 


51 

The  real  creations  of  the  mind  are  indestructible,  surviv- 
ing monuments  and  even  institutions.  The  creation  may 
be  fanciful,  whimsical,  wholly  in  the  realm  of  the  imagi- 
nation, of  sympathy,  of  feeling.  If  it  be  genuine,  it  will 
live  on,  with  an  influence  almost  incomparable.  It  is 
simply  impossible  to  calculate  the  influence  of  such  a 
writer  as  Irving  upon  a  people  who  are  familiar  with  him 
for  half  a  century.  It  is  all  the  more  effective  that  it  is 
silent,  arouses  no  opposition,  is  almost  unrecognized.  I 
speak  of  his  influence  now  in  the  way  of  culture,  apart 
from  the  national  historic  consciousness  he  aided  us  in 
attaining.  I  do  not  know  how  many  Greeks  could  read 
Homer ;  there  were  probably  few  who  did  not  think  more 
of  themselves  because  he  was  a  Greek. 

It  is  my  pleasure  to  come  here  to-day,  a  little  apart  from 
the  unrest  of  our  affairs,  into  the  atmosphere  of  Irving's 
home,  to  still  our  thoughts  to  that  intellectual  calmness 
in  which  he  moved.  How  free  he  was  from  peevishness, 
from  strain,  from  self-consciousness !  What  a  liking  he 
had  for  humanity,  what  a  kind  word  for  the  lamest,  most 
useless  of  us  all  I  If  it  is  asked  in  what  consisted  his 
power  over  the  hearts  of  his  readers,  it  may  be  answered 
in  the  words  of  Mrs.  Browning  about  Napoleon — "  he 
had  the  genius  to  be  loved."  And  did  you  ever  think 
what  an  elevating  force  it  is  in  a  nation  to  have  an  ob- 
ject that  can  be  loved  ?  Here  every  thing  speaks  of 
Irving.  We  see  this  river,  these  indented  shores,  these 
ravines  that  returning  spring  decks  with  flowers  for  his 
birthday,  these  legendary  mountains,  in  the  light  of  his 
genius.      It  was  Irving  and  not  Hudson  who  truly  dis- 


cuwiutiil  tills  river  Stnd  gave  it  to  as.     The  early  naviga- 

tots  used  to  get  agnraod  in  it.     He  made  it  a  highway 

off  the  imagination.     TiaveQeas  who  never  leave  their 

firesides  voyage  np  and  down  it.     In  the  Indian  summer 

these  shfMes  are  golden,  tibese  hills  are  porple,  the  stream 

flows  as  in  a  dream.    In  aU  seasons  to  aD  the  worid  this 

region  weais  these  hues  ijl  romance  that  Irvic^  g^ve  it. 

His  ^irit  abides  here.    Here  is  his  ivied  cottage.     Here 

is  his  grave.    I  come,  refnesoiting,  I  am  sure,  many  who 

cannot  come,  to  lay  upon  it  a  wreath  of  sincere  affection. 

7  ess  was  received  with  constant  ezinressions  of 

he  condnding  address  was  then  announced 

.     -  bv  Prof.  T^Tinianj  C  Wilkinson,  D.D.,  of 


PROF.  WM.  C  WILKIXSON^S  ADDRESS. 

When  tfcr  -'',:'-  ---:--.-,_-  -■■  --  --rhrr's  birth- 
day is  celer  .  —  fpontane- 
oos  gather: :  Diial  papers  blossom- 
ing out  z  :  - .  t  t  z  -  -vrhere  over  all  the  field  of  period- 
ical .be  presumed  that  the  world 
ha:  -  "rhat  it  thinks  of  that  au- 
thc .  rn  patiently  to  be  told  by 
anj-  ::.z 

This  certainly  is  by  =  e  the  case  as  to  Washing- 

tor  '  It  is  partly  by  ionune^  and  partly  by  merit, 

'    ■  -  ■ -:tever,  of  any  age  or  countr>%  is  more 

Washington  Irving's  fame  is  at  least 
as  sure  to  stand  idiat  it  now  is,  beyond  an^^  peradventure 


53 

dut  ooiald  le»ea  i^  as  is  tine  osmaAsj  x&aM  wlKsae  kRn- 
OKcd  and  bdloved,  mo/t  Ica^  vIksoc  hanoimg  and  hnring, 
son  he  was.  IKa^^,  WashiagtoM  Ixna^s  burnt  is  fdt  saocr 
off  its  iiBBiBMMrtaJity  tiBU>  is  tise  .AnDcsiicaoB  icpoBoIfic  Jlau- 
tsoos  gomrtiairs  die,  whcaa  tiac  baga^ys  tipcy  spdke  sa»g- 
vive.  As  long  as  tibe  EaiglBA  laagv^ie  is  ^pdkcn,  Wadk- 
ington  Irwag  wiM  umAmmc  to  be  a  faawMg  aartSnoc. 

What  are  tiie  ririwiriHits  ia  Ina  USteajay  doassclter  tihat 
fltake  Waahimgton  Irwnig  tinas  imaMMtall  ? 

I  begin  witii  the  least  ezaSlted  vdbem  I  vaamt  Iris  s&|^ 
Nobody  tliat  is  qnafified  to  ^peak  at  aM  off  stji^  ia  fitccfr- 
tme  CDold  poosiMjr,  afitcr  &me.  caammadSam,  dcoiy  to 
Waahii^tom  Irving  tine  niasfeesy  off  a  ooasnannate  art  of 
oppression.  Pesbs^s  tiie  cbaiacteirisltic  off  Iwk  sSySe  tbat 
strikes  fiist  and  most  Strang^  is  tiDe  air  «iff  ahwnHntfr  ease 
tiiat  pervades  it.  For  niy  part,  I  know  off  no  writer  in 
any  laogoa^e  tiiat  iinipresses  his  Rsaderwittb  a.  sense  nnoic 
absidnte  off  tbe  abwrnrr  off  eibrt  in  pmdncttion.  This 
oestainly  in  tbose  cowopositMWBS  oS.  his  wlricb  arc  tbe  finnt 
of  his  most  iw  Innate  moods.  His  f'^iiffi*"'^  off  wonds 
and  off  owiwil  mctMins  srf  ms»  iBmo^  magirallB  mmacnflons. 
Tbati^  it  would  seem  so,  iff  yon  were  not  bcgnOed  oat  off 
thinkia^  off  the  matter  at  aO,  by  the  vcfj  peifeiiiun  off 
the  resolt.  These  is  afflwpnre  off  dirtioa,  these  is  vasiely 
of  tnsn  to  the  phrase,  these  is  snptcme  aponflaaeoas  fit- 
ness between  the  idea  to  be  czpscssed  and  the  langna^c 
cfaosfiii  to  capteas  the  idea — and  ^  this  goes  on,  page 
after  p^c;  with  never  a  bseal^  nntil  yon  asc  Almost  leady 
to  bcfieve  that  yon  have  ^^ied  apoa  aa  aathor  at  fast 
to  whom  composition  is  as  easy  and  as  deBgjhtfal  as  it  is 


54 

for  the  rivulet  to  flow  down  to  the  sea  or  for  the  lark  on 
May  mornings  to  sing  out  of  his  full  heart, 

"  In  profuse  strains  of  unpremeditated  art." 

I  said  that  in  naming  style  as  an  element  in  Irving's 
literary  character,  I  should  name  the  least  exalted  of  the 
elements  that  made  him  the  writer  that  he  was.  But  in 
truth,  as  has  been  said,  the  style  is  of  the  man,  Irving's 
style  was  the  perfect  impress  of  his  genius,  and  his 
genius  was  the  reflection  of  his  character.  He  was  at  ease 
within  himself.  There  was  no  discord  in  him.  He  was 
made  up  of  melody,  of  harmony.  There  could  be  no 
strain,  no  hardness,  no  want  of  grace,  in  his  expression 
of  himself,  for  there  were  none  of  these  things  in  the 
man  to  be  expressed.  The  ease,  therefore,  of  Irving's 
style  is  not  an  external,  accidental  attribute.  It  belonged 
to  his  style,  because  it  belonged  first  to  the  man. 

Akin  to  ease  of  style  in  Irving  is  another  quality 
which  I  am  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  name  properly.  I 
shall  call  it  urbanity.  This  element  of  urbanity  diffuses 
itself  everywhere  over  Irving's  pages.  It  makes  an 
atmosphere  that  covers  them  and  beautifies  them. 
Whether  you  laugh  or  cry,  or  are  simply  entertained 
and  instructed,  no  matter,  you  are  still  conscious  of  an 
indescribable  circumfluent  charm  that  enfolds  you  when- 
ever you  read  what  Irving  wrote.  There  is  a  matchless 
spell  to  win  and  to  master  in  this  exquisite  urbanity  on 
the  part  of  an  author.  It  is  a  flattery  to  you  that  you 
cannot  resist,  as  you  cannot  escape.  It  is  impersonal  and 
personal,  both  at  once.     It   respects  everybody,  but  it 


55 

also  respects  you.  It  is  absolutely  genuine  on  the  part 
of  Irving.  It  is  not  an  expedient  adopted.  If  it  were, 
it  would  be  sometimes  an  expedient  forgotten.  You 
would  now  and  then  be  inadvertently  permitted  to  look 
behind  the  mask.  But  in  Irving  there  was  no  mask. 
The  urbane  smile  that  you  meet  is  a  true  smile,  not  a 
smirk.  It  is  not  a  set  grimace,  but  a  sweet  mobile  play 
of  ever-changeful,  but  ever-urbane  expression. 

But  now,  of  course,  I  have  been  using  an  inadequate 
word.  The  urbanity  of  Irving's  style  deserves  a  better 
name.  Let  us  go  inward  and  find  a  better.  At  heart, 
Irving's  urbanity  was  less  urbanity  than  benignity. 

The  benignity  that  I  ascribe  to  Irving's  literary  char- 
acter is  not  an  insipid  negative  trait.  It  has  a  pro- 
nounced individual  flavor.  It  is  so  sure  of  itself,  it  feels 
so  fixed  in  truth,  that  it  can  do  what  it  will  without  fear. 
It  can  deal  with  your  foibles  and  laugh  at  you.  It  can 
make  others  laugh  at  you.  It  can  make  you  laugh  at 
yourself,  and  you  shall  not  be  hurt  or  feel  offended. 
You  shall  not  lose  any  part  of  your  self-respect.  The 
reason  is,  you  know  that  this  sweetly-attempered  genius, 
this  soul  of  urbanity,  of  benignity,  at  bottom  respects 
you  and  loves  you.  You  confide  in  him  unreservedly. 
You  consent  that  he  should  have  you  laughing  or  weep- 
ing at  his  will. 

Those  two  things,  mated  to  each  other,  each  the  other's 
completing  half — I  mean  Irving's  humor  and  his  pathos, 
— are  simply  two  different  expressions  of  the  one  whole, 
round,  perfect  benignity  of  his  nature.  His  eye  twinkles 
now  in  pure  mirth,  and  you  laugh — melts  now  in  soft 


/ 


56 

pathos,  and  you  weep.  But  you  have  responded  in  both 
cases  to  benignity  still — only  in  two  variant  moods.  You 
love  this  writer — you  cannot  help  it,  for  you  feel  sure, 
whoever  you  are,  that  he  loves  you. 

So  I  carry  up  the  writer  to  the  man — his  literary  char- 
acteristics to  his  personal.  As  old  an  author  as  Aristotle 
— pagan,  too,  though  he  was — told  us  that  the  good  ora- 
tor should  be  a  good  man.  The  same  thing  must  be  said 
of  the  good  writer.  And  Washington  Irving  was  a  good 
man.  We  do  not  need  to  say  that  he  was  of  an  heroic 
goodness.  That  we  do  not  know.  But  he  was  pure, 
upright,  good. 

Blessings  on  his  memory  !  Those  of  us  at  least  who 
live  here  have  done  what  Choate  once  passionately  said 
concerning  Webster:  we  have  buried  him  in  our  hearts. 
His  memory  is  a  benediction,  under  the  unfailing  dew  of 
which  our  hearts  are  perennially  freshened  and  glad- 
dened. Irving's  literary  characteristics  here  are  dis- 
solved away  from  our  view.  We  cannot  keep  them 
fixed  to  look  at  them.  They  melt  and  merge,  blended 
into  the  lovely  image  of  the  man  himself,  who  lived  and 
is  buried.  Let  us  be  thankful  for  the  dust  that  makes 
Tarrytown  a  Mecca  of  the  mind  and  of  the  heart,  a 
goal  of  pilgrimage,  a  spot  of  "  haunted  holy  ground." 
[Applause]. 

The  benediction  was  then  pronounced  by  Professor 
T.  Sandford  Doolittle,  D.D.,  of  Rutgers  College,  New 
Brunswick,  N.  J.,  and  then,  the  exercises  being  con- 
cluded, the  gratified  audience — which  had  paid  the 
closest  attention,  and  welcomed  the  entire  programme 


57 

with  warm  expressions  of  approval — dispersed,  to  take 
with  them  and  forever  keep  the  memory  of  that  soft 
April  evening  when,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  one 
hundredth  anniversary  of  his  birth,  the  name  of  WASH- 
INGTON Irving  was  recalled  and  honored  in  the  little 
town  where  he  lived  and  died,  which  he  loved  so  well, 
and  within  whose  beautiful  cemetery  of  Sleepy  Hollow 
his  remains  are  fittingly  enshrined,  to  be  visited  by 
future  generations  that  will  not  forget  the  writer  or 
the  man ! 


i 


A. 


Ms- 


